


The Chains that Bind

by Meowzalot



Series: Broken Chains [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Job, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowzalot/pseuds/Meowzalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a continuation of my Broken Chains series. Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble

Even months later and Greg Lestrade wasn’t quite sure if he was used to this whole ‘arrangement’. After that jealous incident with Glenn and Mycroft claiming to not want to lose his ‘favorite amusement’ things had gotten. . serious? Was that the right way of thinking about this? Nothing else had really been said about that night where Mycroft had appeared at his doorstep to kick out the would have been replacement.

After that things had almost returned to normal. The next morning Mycroft had been gone, and shortly after waking up a quick phone call made it clear that there would be much more ‘punishment’ for daring to attempt what he had.

Over the last month Greg found it easier to believe he was actually sleeping with Mycroft Holmes, another man. This ‘relationship’ was exclusive, at least on his end. With Mycroft there was no point in asking considering it would only sting to hear the man admit to having others. Besides, most of their time together was a distraction in itself. With every new experience Lestrade found himself finding out different things about himself.

On a whim he reached up to touch where the welts of a tight collar had been left only a few hours ago. The paper work on the desk went forgotten for a moment as Greg leaned back in the chair, eyes drifting closed for a moment as he remembered the sharp yanks whenever Mycroft had thrust into him. The choking feeling had left him dizzy; weak armed and so very turned on. Without thinking a hand drifted down to adjust himself, easily feeling the cock sheath Mycroft had ordered he wear for the day.

The soft leather could be worn longer than a cock ring but the constant stimulation was creating quite the ache. Even when his mind was distracted by work all it took was a slight movement and he was rock hard. At least the dark pants hid any little wet spots whenever he got overly excited.

As the cell phone on the desk buzzed to life Greg jumped, almost falling from the chair like he’d been caught masturbating in the office. With a shaking hand he reached out, finding the timing of Mycroft calling almost comical to a degree.

“Lestrade.”

“You sound. . bothered, inspector. Did I interrupt something?”

That cocky tone, filled with self-pleasure! That was one thing Greg wasn’t sure he liked even after this month or so of them shagging. “What do you need, Holmes? I’m at work. That does require some type of focus.” He grumbled in annoyance, tensing somewhat at the low chuckle.  
“I only wanted to hear your voice, Lestrade. You’re so cruel. Of course, now that you ask why don’t you send me a picture showing what I interrupted? Don’t bother lying to me. You know I hate that. I’ll be expecting it in half an hour at the latest.”

The dying ‘click’ of the phone left him speechless, eyes going wide. More pictures while he was. . he was at work?! How could Mycroft expect him to simply keep taking breaks just for these little orders? It was a slow day but that wasn’t the point. After sending the little toy Holmes hadn’t ordered anything while he was at work.

“Bastard.”

Greg wasn’t sure if that was directed at Mycroft or himself. Standing up he slipped the phone into his pocket before leaving the office, trying to appear calm while heading for the toilet. Struggling to keep the obvious arousal hidden was more work than one would have thought but it made the short walk feel so very long. It felt like anyone who looked at him would know what he was going to do. Well, even if someone could have guessed at least they weren’t yelling it out for the entire office.

No one knew about his little relationship. Everyone still felt sorry over the divorce, and some were still trying to set him up with lovely girls they thought would be perfect. At least Mycroft didn’t know about those.

Slipping into the bathroom he felt quite lucky to find it empty. Getting into a stall the plan was simple: Just take a picture, send the picture, and leave. That was all Mycroft had wanted.

Slowly an idea worked its way into the back of his mind, making the man grin slightly. Just a picture? If he was going to send something why have it just be a picture? Maybe something with a bit more ‘spice’ so Mycroft could get just as frustrated as him.

Feeling naughty was still a little awkward but it was exciting. Undoing the dark dress slacks he pushed them down, shaking hand working the phone around to record a quick video as he stole a glance between the gaps of the bathroom stall. Still empty.

The leather was wrapped snuggly around his hard length, leaving only the head and balls free with little fitted holes. Greg had tried to stop questioning what it said about him that these things no longer bothered him. In fact, he loved it to a degree. He loved pretty much everything Mycroft had been introducing him to.

Holding the phone correctly Greg kept the angle just at his lower body. Those highly dedicated would be able to figure out it was him even without his face being shown but it was something that gave him comfort.

Hearing the smallest sound that said it was recording he started teasing the head of his cock, the feeling nearly causing him to twitch. “Mycroft. . “ Greg moaned it softly, nearly shaking. God, he just needed to get this binding thing off and cum! How angry would that make Mycroft? It was most likely the hormones that made him uncaring of what could happen but right now his fingers were already undoing the ties that kept the leather sheath closed tight. Even with one hand he managed to wiggle it off, dropping it to the floor as his fingers quickly wrapped around the throbbing length.

If Mycroft saw this little video he’d surely be pissed right off. “Fuck off, Holmes. You can’t. . stop me. . “ Greg moaned softly, resisting the urge to close his eyes. He was still in the work toilet, where anyone could simply walk in. Even that knowledge didn’t bother him.

With how aroused he’d been the entire day so far it didn’t take long for him to reach the edge. Letting out a final loud gasp he tensed, blushing nearly crimson as he saw the mess it made on both floor and wall. Falling back against the other side of the stall he tried to move fast. He’d already been in here a pretty good amount of time.  
Maybe his priorities were a tad on the fritz but he took a moment to send the video, grinning to himself. That would certainly get him into a good bit of trouble but taking some control was still worth it.

After cleaning up, and slipping that cursed little leather creation into his pocket Greg Lestrade headed back to his office. Only to find Sally waiting as if a fire were following her heels.

“Let’s go.” He said simply, knowing what that meant fully well. Already the afterglow of the nice wank was fading as the more serious part of his mind took over. Mycroft would just have to wait.

 

A dead body found hung. Should have been a rather open and close case. If there wasn’t the obvious look of a struggle. It was rather tiring really, mainly because Anderson was up his arse about not calling Holmes. Such a topic was rarely under discussion. If Sherlock needed to be called he would be called. “Honestly, I think the bloke got into a fight and hung himself afterward. Seems pretty clear cut but that kind of bothers me. Don’t look at me like that, Donavan, I’d rather get his opinion than risk a killer on the streets.” Greg said, giving Sally a stern look before walking away from the group slightly.

Already he could hear Anderson starting to whine but he had the phone pressed to his ear, expecting John to answer it. That seemed to be their go to response lately. John answered and related things back to Sherlock.

Well, John did answer but he sounded more than a little busy.

“Y-yes, Greg? A c-case?” John gasped out, leaving Greg a little worried. “John, are you alright? Is this a bad time?”

In the background there was an oddly familiar noise, mixed with heavy breathing and a muffled moan. “For fucks sake, John! You didn’t have to answer the damn phone during-“

“What is it, Lestrade?”

Sherlock came on the phone now, sounding far too composed but even he sounded a little bit breathless.  
“Why don’t you just call me back? This doesn’t sound like a good time. Not from my end anyway.”  
“Just text the location and we’ll be there shortly.”

There was just the muffled sound of a phone hitting the bed, leaving Lestrade completely baffled. Was he. . had Sherlock not hung up? As his cheeks started to go crimson he heard John let out a loud cry.

“S-Sherlock. . please! Harder! Just fucking do it harder!”

Greg felt his eyes go wide at the demanding tone. So very unlike John Watson. As the squeak of the bed grew louder he felt suddenly like a naughty pervert. What was he doing just standing around, at a crime scene, listening to the consulting detective and doctor having an afternoon shag? Hanging up quickly he texted the address with a shaking hand, hearing their muffled sounds of pleasure in the back of his mind.

Thankfully no one seemed to notice how shaky he was when returning to the others. With the dead body still hanging around it was a little easier to forget what he’d heard but all too soon Sherlock made an appearance with a less than steady looking John.

“You sure you should be up, Watson? You look a little sick.” Sally asked, giving him a careful look over. Neither man really gave a reaction, at least nothing open. Greg could have sworn he saw Sherlock smirk a bit before turning towards the body. “I’m fine. Just the change in temperature. Nothing serious.” John said with a friendly smile, shrugging like it was nothing.

“Nothing he didn’t ask for. I’m sure of that.” Greg found himself mumbled when Sally turned away to talk to Anderson.

“Sorry about that. I thought Sherlock knew how to hang up a damn phone.” John mumbled with a little chuckle. Really no shame on his end but why would there be? It wasn’t like he’d been listening in on two people having sex. “Things happen.” Greg found himself laughing softly before Sherlock cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder to watch the pair laughing. “John? Come here.”

The voice was completely Sherlocks but something about it was hauntingly familiar to the elder Holmes. It was on the tip of his tongue to make the verbal comparison but anyone who knew Sherlock knew how he felt about Mycroft Holmes. Having Sherlock storm off in a huff wouldn’t exactly get them anywhere.

Quickly John hurried to join Sherlock, looking more amused than annoyed at the command. Somehow Greg doubted their relationship was anything like what he had with Mycroft. Not that his sexual fling with the elder Holmes was an actual relationship. It was something interesting though. That was always good enough for him.

With Sherlock poking around it only took a few minutes to come up with something. Sadly, for Sherlock anyway, it wasn’t anything exciting. Merely what Greg had already suggested. A fight between lovers, one storming out while the other remained behind to. . well, they would be sure to take care of the body.

Another hour later and they were done. Ready to head home. Finally giving Lestrade a chance to actually think about what he’d done earlier. That little leather item felt like a weight in his pocket. Had it really been there the entire time? Walking around the crime scene, while talking to John and Sherlock? It was almost hilarious but the phone now vibrating was enough to choke down the laughter.

“Yes, Mycroft?”

There was a dark silence on the phone before it was broken by a chuckle.

“Growing bold, aren’t we? What were my orders this morning, Greg? Can you remember that far back?”

Holding the phone tightly he gave a mental groan. “I can’t remember word for word but you did tell me to keep that thing on. I guess I just got over excited. It happens.” Greg said calmly, trembling as he left the office. “Very bold. You know where to go now, Greg. It should only take you about an hour. When you get here I’ll be waiting in my office.”  
That wasn’t exactly as bad as he’d thought. Well, it was over the phone. Should he really go over to Mycrofts tonight? With a racing heart Greg headed to his car, almost shaking while getting behind the wheel.

Instead of making the turn for his own flat the car took him right to a familiar townhome that still didn’t actually look lived in. With it being so late the maid was already gone but the door was unlocked, most likely Mycroft had told her to leave it unlatched for when his ‘company’ came over. That’s how he was talked about to any staff.

Far as he knew Mycroft never talked about him to anyone else, not even Sherlock. Which was fair enough. Greg didn’t exactly have a personal life outside of work, and Mycroft, but he had never mentioned Mycroft either. Always answering questions about dating with the usual excuse of he wasn’t ready for something like that quite yet.

Locking the door firmly he kicked off the shoes first before following the hallway towards the office. Pushing the cracked door open he frowned at the sight of Mycroft actually using the phone. The words were foreign to him. A bit rough and. . Russian? Instinct told him to leave but Mycroft had already caught sight of him.

The gesture was more or less that he needed to get in there. All the while Holmes kept talking, barely missing a beat even as he gave that charming smile and pushed the chair back from the desk slightly. As he pointed to the underside of the desk Greg tensed, eyes going wide. “No!” He mouthed, pointing to the phone in Mycrofts hand.  
As the mans eyes grew cloudy with warning Lestrade went to kneel in front of the other, biting the inside of his cheek when a smooth palm ran over his cheek. The same hand that had been bruising his backside just a few days ago. God, such a time they had had. Turning towards the hand he licked at the clean digits, smirking to himself as Mycroft actually stumbled over a word.

Now the hand grabbed at his hair, pulling his face forward to press a slightly stubbled cheek against the front of his dress pants. Was Mycroft really wanting this now? While he was on the phone? Well, no reason to risk pissing him off more, right?

Within a few minutes the pants were undone and, as usual, no knickers. The hot flesh nearly had his mouth watering just while it was in the palm of his hand. With that distraction it was easy to forget Mycroft was on the phone until the hand at the back of his head pulled him forward again.

“Always so damned bossy.” Greg grumbled, wincing as nails were dug gently into the back of his head as a warning to keep quiet. Leaning forward he ran his tongue along the sensitive slit, swallowing the few drops of salty liquid.

Mycroft kept talking, only pausing to listen to the other person on the phone. Well, if he thought this wouldn’t be such a distraction Greg was determined to prove him wrong. Over the last few weeks he’d gotten much better at being able to take more into his throat without gagging, something even Mycroft had praised him more.

Smirking to himself Greg pushed down more, almost feeling the soft textured hair around his lovers groin brush his nose. With the sheer girth of Mycrofts length he had to pull away fairly quickly but it had a good effect. Already he was rewarded with pre-cum dripping onto his tongue, causing him to moan so very softly so he wouldn’t bother the conversation.

Closing his eyes Greg felt Mycrofts hand guide the movement of his head, barely reacting. Once in a while he would stumble over a word, clear his throat, or even stop his lover completely to regain himself. The moment the phone was placed back on the holder his other hand came down, taking a place at the other side of Lestrades head.  
Even after getting used to the size of him that didn’t make getting mouth fucked any easier. Grabbing hard onto Mycrofts thighs Greg squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on breathing as the hard cock was rammed into the back of his throat. God, he just wanted to reach down and start touching himself again!

Without warning Holmes arched his hips higher, letting out a loud groan as Greg tried to pull away. Even when given the chance most of the cum that hadn’t been swallowed was dripping down his chin onto the button up shirt. “You twat! You could have killed me!” Greg gasped, rubbing at his already sore throat.

Looking up he felt a stirring in his gut as Mycroft stroked his cheek.

“That was a lovely video you sent me, Greg. I feel as if I should repay you properly for disobeying me.”


	2. Jealousy.

Even standing in the shower was proving to be a real pain in the. . arse. Not really just there actually. There was a dull ache coursing through almost every inch of his body. His wrists were even sore from the fur lined handcuffs, and his upper thighs and cheeks were covered in still hot welts from the riding crop.

Music started filling the bathroom then, giving him chills. Mycroft seemed to have a real fondness for music, something Greg would never have thought. Well, classical music made some sense. The gentle tune of the violin had him a little bit distracted but it was hard to forget just how sore he really was.

Even his throat felt sore from Mycroft using that damned thing of his. Almost on cue the creak of the bathroom door had him spinning around, watching Holmes through the fogging glass. “Now don’t look at me like that, Greg. A good rest and you’ll be right as rain but we might have to take a tiny break from actual sex for a little while.” He chuckled while getting into the shower.

A soothing hand went to his arse, stroking the punished flesh almost tenderly. Wincing at a gentle pinch Greg glared when Mycroft gave a ‘tsking’ noise, kissing the side of his head. “Does it really hurt that bad?”

“You know it does, Holmes. You’re the one who did it.” Greg grumbled but he wasn’t as angry as he might have been at one point. A finger probed at his entrance for a moment, watching the males reaction as he winced and pulled away.

The sight was almost enough to arouse him further. Lestrade stood there covered in marks ranging from bite marks, to the riding crop they were both fond of, and even a few hand prints that still had his own hand aching. “I would suggest taking a day from the office as well. Give your body time to heal, and these marks to fade from the most obvious places.” Mycroft suggested, raising an eyebrow at the deadly glare directed at him. Hadn’t they gotten past this point yet?

Not that he didn’t love how Greg looked when glaring at him. The defiant gaze was so tempting. Tempting him to try and break the proud inspector until Greg pleaded for him to stop. Reaching up to stroke one slightly stubbled cheek Mycroft found himself unable to actually do more than give a warning smirk.

It would be such a pity to lose that defiant gaze.

“You should listen to me once in a while, Greg. It would be a great service to yourself.” He said softly, giving the cheek a gentle pat before turning to the other shower head in the stall.

With the size of the shower they didn’t actually need to interact after that. It was impossible to not notice Mycroft Holmes. Even when silent the Holmes brothers just. . radiated this aura. For Greg it always felt like cool warmth that left his body tingling with something close to excitement. It was amazing to watch Sherlock work, and just as amazing to merely listen to Mycroft speak.

“Are you still cross that I disobeyed you?” Greg found himself asking, body tensing for a moment as his eyes stayed firmly on the marble tiles in front of him.

There was another beat of silence before Mycroft gave a small chuckle. “If I’m going to be honest I was rather. . impressed with your show. From what I’ve been told it can be rather intimidating to go against me and you made it a pleasure to watch.” He admitted, keeping his own gaze at the wall in front of him.

Things with Lestrade were going rather well. It wasn’t normal for him to keep lovers around for more than a few weeks. Of course, with Greg there was the bonus of being able to spy easier on little Sherlock. Not that he could actually ask straight out. A few innocent questions here or there, and then he would ‘borrow’ Watson for a little while to confirm those answers.

Sherlock had grown rather tired of him ‘borrowing/kidnapping’ the dear Dr. Watson. Even growing hostile at times. Of course, the poor Sherlock was currently going through the new phase of a romantic relationship. Such a stage was known for bringing out the jealousy trapped inside a persons heart; there was still a huge difference between that and when he’d gotten frustrated over the idea of someone else claiming Greg Lestrade as their own toy.

Amusement was hard to come by for him.

Turning around he reached out, grabbing Greg by the hips and pulling the slightly bruised back to his chest. “Are you cross with me? Of course I know you are to a certain degree. It’s written all over your face and body language.” Mycroft said, knowing it was only frustrating Greg more to be read so easily. Truth be told Lestrade was quite well at covering emotions and masking his words, but Mycroft wasn’t like anyone else in the mans life.

When Greg went to pull away Holmes gave a low sigh, wrapping his arms around the smooth waist. “Someone else at work was suggesting a blind date with her sister.” Greg murmured, resting hands on the others wrists instead of trying to pull away. His backside was a little tender with the contact between their bodies but it wasn’t that horrible.

“Again? They really are hell bent on saving you from loneliness, aren’t they? What did you tell her?” Mycroft asked, kissing at one little bite mark still lingering at Gregs neck. “I told her I’d think about it but that I wasn’t over the divorce yet.”

“Good boy.” He chuckled softly, trailing his lips upward as Greg turned his head to meet the scorching lips.

 

For once in a good while he was able to sleep through the alarm on his phone, even going so far as to turn it off. The idea of work crossed his mind only once but he could have sworn Mycroft had said something about handling everything. At the time it had seemed like the perfect deal so he could keep sleeping in this giant bed surrounded by the few toys that had been left out after his last ‘punishment’.

Now, with sleep wearing off, Greg reached for the phone. It was almost noon! Sitting up he cursed loudly, body arching as he reached around to rub at his lower back.  
That bloody twat! He should have stopped after saying he was going to!

There weren’t any messages on his phone from work, and no one had tried to call him. Not even Mycroft. Sagging back into the bed he rolled onto his stomach, groaning into the pillows. Far as he knew there wasn’t anything in the bathroom for helping this type of pain. He’d used it up after the last punishment cycle.

Turning his head to glance at the phone screen a little idea came to mind. Normally calling in favors wasn’t high on his ‘to-do’ list but with the throbbing pain in his body it seemed like a rather good idea. Besides, this person knew how to keep their mouth shut.

Before the other person could answer he started talking, worried he might lose the nerve. “John, listen, I have a. . problem of sorts. Could you get me something for. . pain. A certain type of pain.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not at work?” John asked. There were muffled noises and a shutting door before his voice lowered a bit. “Everything okay?”

“Ya, John. I just have a problem. Something for pain, maybe a cream or. . or something.” He asked, cheeks growing blazing hot.

To Johns credit he didn’t even tease or laugh, instead taking a more serious tone. “Do you need to go to a doctor or anything? Well, you know what I mean.”

“I was hoping this could just stay between us. Nothing really seems wrong. Just. . sore. I doubt you want to hear details.”

“Thanks for that. Listen, I’ll grab something I know will help but I’ll need to take a look if you refuse to go to another doctor. No one will know, not even Sherlock. I’ll be at your flat in about half an hour.”

Half an hour? That didn’t seem like enough time to actually get up, get dressed and actually get out of this place. Instead of calling John back he got up to rush through getting ready. Every movement had him twitching; sweat beading at his forehead by the time he actually left the town house.

Again he felt sorry for the maid who had to go through cleaning up that damned room. It was left in even more of a mess than usual.

 

Greg had only been in his flat a few minutes when there was a knock at the door. “It’s open, John! Just hurry the bloody hell up!” He yelled out, lying out on the couch with a groan. As the front door opened and shut he felt better just knowing something was about to ease the rest of the pain.

“I owe you, John. You’re saving me, you know that?”

There was only a small chuckle but it wasn’t warm in the least. As it started to sink in he felt a hand grab at his covered arse, squeezing at one of the slightly tender cheeks. “Mycroft?! What the hell? Stop it!” He begged, tears springing to his eyes as he looked up at the other.  
“You look confused, Lestrade.”

His fingers twisted into the blanket draped over the back of the couch, breath catching in his throat. 

“Mycroft, I can’t take another.”

“Sshh.” He murmured, stepping back from the couch while snapping his fingers slightly and gesturing for Greg to sit up. Even with his body aching he couldn’t resist the temptation to follow each order, the others eyes willing away any control he might have retained of his body.

Mycroft was already removing the tan trench coat, tossing it carefully over a sitting chair in the corner. “Now, Greg, I suggest you remove whatever you don’t wish to be ruined. It’s your choice, as usual. I will compensate you for anything that gets ruined.” Mycroft said, reaching up to remove his tie slowly. Every movement was so calm, as if he weren’t undressing from work but shouldn’t he still be there?

Standing up he started undressing, eyes trying to look anywhere but at the set that were currently glued to him.

“You were complaining to Dr. Watson about your pain, were you not? I figured this might help the problem.” He explained, pulling a small tube from an inner pocket. Along with a thin dildo flared wide at the base. It was almost as thin as a thumb but rather long, for a moment Greg really didn’t want to consider what this meant. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Mycroft.” He murmured but his boxers were tenting already, belying the statement.

Pushing them down slowly he let the green plaid fall to his feet, loving how Mycroft just remained dressed for the most part. The suits were always a wonderful touch to their brazen acts.

“This is merely to make sure every inch of you gets some of the cream. We can’t have you feeling sore, can we?” Mycroft chuckled, holding both items out with a nod. The order was clear as day; at least it was to Greg who reached out to take both.

After coating the dildo in a thin layer of the cream he reached out, inserting it slowly before finger tips grasped his chin to turn his gaze upward.

“Now sit. Make sure it’s deep.”

Lowering himself downward Greg winced openly as it entered him, sending pains all through his body but already the head of his cock was leaking. “I had a feeling this would happen as well. Naughty boy.” Mycroft sighed, pulling another item out and making him give a quick shake of the head at the sight of the cock ring.

“If this is about talking to John I just wanted to keep this quiet. John is a doctor after all!” Greg tried to explain but Holmes was already leaning over, rolling the latex ring onto his lovers cock without a word. “He is. You’re right about that.”

The facts didn’t really seem to matter. Rather shocking for a Holmes. It made complete sense why he had contacted John but Mycroft was jealous. Again. And a jealous Mycroft was always ready to punish.

Standing straight again Mycroft snapped his fingers quickly, legs spreading a bit where he stood. “You fucking twat.” Greg groaned, feeling a hand rest at the back of his head but it did nothing. No. Everyone that happened now would be of his own doing. Another little nail in the coffin really.

Not wanting to waste time Greg undid the suit pants, leaning forward to wrap his lips around the already swollen head. At least he wasn’t the only one affected by this odd little game. Clearly Holmes was loving it, judging by the slight tremble of his body and tiny arch of his hips.

As his eyes drifted shut he could faintly hear Mycroft reaching into his jacket again but he didn’t really react until a tiny ‘clicking’ noise had the ‘dildo’ vibrating in his ass.  
Yanking backwards he arched up, eyes flying open. “Lestrade.” Holmes warned softly, glaring down at him.

It was almost impossible to focus over the delicious vibrations inside him, causing him to grind downward. Even with the numbing sensation of the cream he could feel it, quickly driving him mad. “Greg. . “ He warned again.

“Twat. . such. . a twat. . “ Greg moaned softly, leaning forward and taking the hard rod back between his lips like a starving whore. In this moment he couldn’t have denied the claim. His hips were grinding against the couch, hands holding tightly at the others hips to keep that hot flesh in his willing mouth.

Even when Mycroft started moving his hips all Greg did was try to open his mouth wider, licking away the salty treat and giving a few gentle sucks for more. Whenever he tried to pull away there was that faint ‘click’ and the delicious vibrations would stop, leaving him crying out for more. Even as he tried to reach for his own cock Holmes would give a warning ‘tsk’, thrusting his hips a bit harder.

Finally he pulled back, glaring up at Mycroft as he wiped his dripping chin with the back of a shaking hand. “I know this is a bad idea but just fucking do me or get out. You are an unbelievable twat, Mycroft Holmes!” Greg snapped, obviously not completely himself as the words left his lips.

Trying to ignore Mycroft he brought his feet up onto the couch, thighs spread wide as he reached down for the cock ring first. When a hand grabbed his wrist he glared up at the other, sorely tempted to give him a swift kick.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He could only chuckle before removing the latex ring himself and reaching down to also remove the vibrator.

Grabbing the back of both his lovers knees Mycroft pulled him up slightly, also kneeling down a bit to place the swollen cock head at the pink entrance.  
“God, Mycroft! It fucking hurts!” Greg cried out, holding tightly onto the edge of the couch as he felt the burning sensation threaten to rip him apart.

Instead of pulling away he only pushed in deeper, almost addicted to how Greg trembled and gasping in pain. It wasn’t a completely thrill to cause him such pain but he knew Lestrade was a bit into it. The way his body reacted was a dead giveaway.

Greg held his eyes shut for the moment, moaning weakly as he felt the other pull out and simply slam back into him. It took so much effort not to simply tense up but that would only make it worse. After a few more times he couldn’t help but try and arch more into it, finally looking up at the man leaning over him.

“Mycroft. . “ He gasped, grabbing onto the others sleeve and holding tightly.

As their eyes met Holmes seemed to give a nod as he increased the pace, sending a sharp pain through Gregs lower body but it was also driving him mad. “Yes! There! M-Mycroft, harder!” He was crying out, legs spreading more as he reached down with his other hand to start stroking himself.

Without breaking eye contact they kept going. Greg felt as if he blacked out for a moment, judging by the blinding light and then coming back to himself to find Mycroft leaning over the couch with both hands on the back.

There was a familiar slickness covering his belly, and slowly leaking out of him as Holmes finally pulled away only to fall onto the couch next to him.

“H-How did you find out about John coming over here?” He finally asked, trying to calm his breathing. Lord it felt like his damned heart was going to simply burst from his chest.

“Does it matter?” He replied before clearing his throat, obviously trying to regain control of his body.

“I think I might need to take tomorrow off as well.” Greg moaned weakly, lowering his legs to the floor and wincing.


	3. Do you know why?

A few hours later he woke up in bed. Alone. Sitting up he looked around the disheveled room, noticing the fading light outside. How long had he been here? The last thing he clearly remembered was showering with Mycroft. Had he really just passed out after they’d gotten to bed?

Judging by how the other side of the beds covers hadn’t even moved it would be safe to assume Holmes hadn’t stayed over. Falling back onto the bed with a little sigh Greg rubbed at his face, sending up a silent prayer that he wasn’t as sore as before. Whatever Mycroft had used on him it was doing amazing things right now.

Reaching out for his phone he found the usual spot empty. Where could the damn thing be? Images from the sitting room flashed through his mind, drawing out a long blush as he dragged himself up into a sitting position. Finding that not so painful Greg stood, resting a hand at his lower back. It was just a reminder that tomorrow at work would be quite a painful day. Tempting to take another day for himself but it wasn’t fair for the others having to pick up the slack.

Greg followed his path from the bedroom to the sitting room, the scent of sex hitting him like a slap to the face. Besides that there were barely any traces of what had happened. Nothing of Mycrofts remained anywhere. His own clothes were draped over the back of the couch neatly. And his phone sat on the couch face up, letting out a little ‘beep’ that meant he had waiting voice mails.

Judging by the missed calls it wasn’t work at least. Mainly from John, even a few texts. 

‘Can’t come. Sherlock told Mycroft you called. Sorry!’

Was Sherlock really such a jealous twit? The answer was quite obvious and more than a little amusing. A man that had barely understood the concept of actual friendship was now getting overly jealous for no reason. God help any poor sod that actually tried to take John.

Scanning through his phone there didn’t seem to be any sort of message from Mycroft. Strange. There was at least a voicemail or Mycroft would just call whenever he woke up.  
He was in the process of dialing when he quickly came back to himself, hanging up. Why was he bothering to call Mycroft? Having that man come back over was the last thing his body needed. There was the slight chance it wouldn’t lead to sex but what were the odds of that happening? They were only really. . well. . together wasn’t the right word. They weren’t actually together. They were shagging like teenagers but that was it.

‘Coming back by tonight?’

Mycroft was known for not texting if he could help it. So, it was a bit surprising to hear the text returned with another text instead of a call.

‘You really should rest yourself, Lestrade. I know you’re quite the attentive pain slut but even you need to rest. – M. H’

It felt like a blessing that no one was around to see his reaction. The flush in his cheeks, the storm building in his eyes.

That cocky bastard!

What made it so horrible was that Mycroft wasn’t actually that far from the truth. Over their last few weeks together Greg had discovered things about himself. The enjoyment of having another man fuck him until he couldn’t move the next day, the delicious torment of having his body tied down and tortured with bites and slaps and almost anything else Mycroft could get his dirty hands on.

A man in his position wasn’t supposed to be having an affair with another man that dealt so heavily in ‘that’ lifestyle. It was scandal worthy really but Greg wasn’t so worried over that. Anything that exposed him exposed Mycroft Holmes. A fact that was damned near impossible. The man was damn near impossible to touch.

‘Tomorrow? We don’t actually have to shag. Grab a pint?’

‘Now, Greg, what did I just say? –M.H’

He could almost hear the mockery in those words. Like someone scolding a naughty child. Getting annoyed was what Mycroft most likely expected. Greg was a level headed man until it came to a Holmes brother. He’d finally grown, for the most part, used to Sherlock but Mycroft was a completely different creature it seemed.

Maybe his feelings were more on the biased side since he was sleeping with Mycroft. He’d never harbored such feelings towards Sherlock so his judgment wasn’t clouded by confusion and lust.

Dropping the phone back to the couch he limped his way back to the bathroom for another shower. At least no one was around to sneak in and turn it into a little fuck fest.

 

Mycroft already knew there wouldn’t be a reply. Oddly enough that didn’t deter his gaze from drifting back to the phone. Maybe Greg assumed he was busy since they had exchanged texts but that had been his goal. Greg Lestrade wasn’t a stupid man, far from it actually.

That had been one of the first things he’d noticed about the detective inspector right away. The sharp eyes that saw a bit more than others and the way he could handle Sherlock. Well, it wasn’t actually him handling Sherlock. They’d been dealing with each other for a number of years and Greg had always been on the defense of young Holmes. For a sibling like Mycroft it earned high marks, not that he would openly admit such a thing.

He had been watching Greg from the moment he first came into contact with Sherlock. After that things had progressed at a steady but non-suspicious level so Lestrade wouldn’t notice the increasing contact between them. The seduction had been a favorite fantasy over the last few years. Even the men Mycroft rented hadn’t been able to quench that little desire. It had only been a matter of time until the marriage broke up.

Watching the two interact had made it clear who would leave. Which had given him the perfect chance to take advantage of low confidence and sexual frustration.  
For a rare moment though things were taking a little. . detour.

Glancing back at the phone he gave a small smirk that was more directed at himself. They fit together quite well it seemed.

Greg was more than willing for their games. And he was a pleasure to watch. Not even his fantasies had been able to predict just how beautiful his face would be twisted in pleasure even as it was brought on by pain.

That text from Sherlock last night about John being Gregs doctor had added the complications. The whole ‘Glenn’ issue hadn’t been more than a selfish child not wanting to share. He had actually worked to gain Greg for himself but hearing about John Watson going over there to ‘check’ on him had been. . off putting.

The jealous feeling was completely unfamiliar. Since hitting the age of exploring sexual relations Mycroft had kept the line firmly in place. It was also why he never actually took a ‘lover’ per-say and only hired professionals. That and it was easier to enjoy his off putting tastes with someone who already understood, as opposed to someone who didn’t even know if they enjoyed being spanked by hand, by crop or even by a whip.

These flames were nothing but a dying ember at this point. A few days to cool the fire, and allow Gregs body to heal fully, and everything would return to normal. These pointless emotions would be forgotten easily.

Sentiment was never a positive thing. It clouded judgment and gave false interpretations. It was much better to avoid.

 

Out of the idea of retaining some form of pride Greg refused to so much as text Mycroft Holmes. The phone only rang for work or from texts from Sherlock.

The only reminder lingering around of Mycroft was the dull ache in his lower back that lasted for a few days at least. No doubt because he’d refused to remain in bed dwelling on things that were better left alone. This whole exploring relationship with Holmes had been eye opening and gave him far more options for in the future.

Leaning back in the squeaky office chair he sighed, rubbing at his face before Sally burst in rambling about something that was far from what they were supposed to do.

“Again, Donovan, not our division. Thanks a bunch.” Greg sighed, keeping his eyes closed even as she huffed and left. Great worker. Amazing person to work with but she’d been extra ‘no’ when it came to Sherlock lately.

Glancing down at the paper work littering his desk he got back to the actual job he was paid to do. A few times he would look at the phone or where old family pictures had been. The black and white photo of his ex-wife had been helpful with keeping him sane during a long office bound day.

‘Coming by tonight.’

Simple text that was more direct. There wasn’t a reply or even a call but it had been about a week or so. Who could blame him for wanting to get laid a little bit?  
Some could argue he could easily go out to a pub but that logic was shut down fast. What he wanted Mycroft could give. Thinking about finding it from someone else was another thought he really didn’t want to focus on either.

Even as work rolled to an end there was no reply. Nothing!

Driving to the townhouse Greg found himself growing more and more annoyed with the elder Holmes brother.

As things had been between them he had never really gotten annoyed with Mycroft. Maybe a bit irked but never mad enough to where he honestly wanted to show that openly. Walking up to the door he tensed at finding it locked, giving a few hard knocks until he heard the faint sounds of footsteps.

“Oh, Mr. Lestrade. I. . I wasn’t aware you were coming by. Master Holmes isn’t here right now, sir.” Josephine said, looking torn between letting him in or sending him off. No doubt thinking over which would annoy Mycroft less. “Any idea when he’s getting back, Josephine?” Greg asked, crossing his arms as a crack of thunder drew their attention towards the sky.

After another moment she stepped aside, shaking her head. “No, sir. Master Holmes hasn’t really been here that much lately. I had thought he was with. . you. . “ She said, watching his face grow still. “Is this Mycrofts actual home or more of a hide-away?”

“His actual address is secret, sir. I don’t even know it. This is where he takes care of some business and other private activities that he won’t bring to his private address.” She explained, shutting the door softly. “Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Lestrade?”

“No, Josephine, thanks anyway. I’ll just keep myself amused.” He said with a polite smile.

That would certainly explain the lack of personal touches around the place. Except for the bedroom. This was nothing but his little ‘activity’ home. It made sense why his private address was a secret. A man who pretty much ran the damned government really couldn’t just advertise his home address to every single person he slept with.

Greg headed straight for the bar in the sitting room, helping himself to the whiskey first off.

The fierce burning down his throat had him trying to remember the last time he’d had a drink. There really hadn’t been much time between work and. . Mycroft. Squeezing the neck of the bottle he took a sip right from the top again, not bothering with a glass.

As time passed he listened to Josephine tidy up a bit, hating when she stopped and simply watched him. Was it really so awkward for him to just be sitting in his kind of lovers house waiting for him?

The answer really didn’t need to be said.

“Mr. Lestrade, it’s time for me to go. Are you sure you don’t need anything? Maybe a ride home? Anything?” She asked gently, pity filled eyes watching him wave the offer away. He was barely buzzed but he must have looked rough. The slight dusting of hair along his jaw line, and the bags that were ever present under his eyes just from years of stress.  
When she left he did stand to head towards the bedroom, whiskey bottle in hand. Everything was in perfect order. What was he even trying to find? Some sort of proof that someone else had been in here besides him and Mycroft? Someone else being in here WITH Mycroft?

Sitting back on the bed he took another sip of the burning whiskey, sucking a breath before coughing hard enough to have his eyes watering.

“Greg, this is a surprise.”

The voice had him standing quickly, body turning towards the door. Mycroft Holmes stood at the door, a large hand resting on the doorframe as he placed the umbrella against the wall. “You waited longer than I had thought you would. Are you truly so eager for what I offer?” Mycroft chuckled, stepping further into the room to shut the door.  
Merely a symbol of the control. There was no one else in the damn home that might hear them. Josephine was gone. Mycroft was just trying to get under his skin.

Laughing softly he sat the bottle down, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I should have known you were watching me. You could have simply texted saying you were busy, or does it get you off to watch me waste my time? It doesn’t even matter. I should just go, you arrogant sod.”

The only way out was through the door, forcing him to walk past Mycroft.

“Do you know why you waited for almost two hours, Greg?”

His hand was on the doorknob. Just open the damn door and leave. Just open the damn door and leave!

“Why is that? Not that it really matters what I say because you’ll just tell me anyway.” He sighed, resting his forehead against the door for a moment. “The Holmes brothers can’t help but say what they think others don’t know. You’re not as bad as Sherlock but you still love doing it. It’s easy to see.”

A hand ran along his back, causing Greg to suck in his breath. It felt like more than a damned week had passed. With the palm running slowly up his back he couldn’t help but arch almost like a cat, savoring the contact.

“Your marriage recently breaks apart and here I am, swooping up to distract you from every ounce of pain. . “ Mycroft started, slowly ripping at his heart like it was nothing but wet paper. “You have not so much as thought of another man, have you? Your attention has been completely on me, has it not? Your affection is at a confusing point. You loathe the fact you’re so aroused by what I’ve introduced to you and, yet, you’re drawn to me.”

The hand worked its way upward, resting for a moment at the back of Gregs neck before slipping around to pull him back quickly. It wasn’t a complete surprise but he didn’t even bother fighting against it, feeling as if his body were growing numb.

“You fancy yourself attracted to me. Isn’t that right, Greg? Even more than that actually. You fancy yourself almost in love with me.”

“Shut up! I just ended a marriage and you’re so bold as to assume I’m falling in love with you? We’re both grown me and you just-“

“It’s all a matter of endorphins’, my dear inspector. Love is a chemical reaction that gives the illusion of feeling happy and you craved that happy feeling ever since your charming ex-wife left. You might not wish to call it that but you crave it all the same. That ‘puppy love’ stage people go on about is your body responding to chemicals.”

 

Trying to pull away he tensed as the grip on his throat tightened, squeezing ever so gently. “Not now, Mycroft. You can’t just say something like that and just expect me to. . to. .“

A punishing bite had the sentence fading into nothing. As the little spot at his throat stung from a gliding tongue Greg was pulled back harder by his throat, breaking off air for a heart-beat.

Mustering whatever mental strength he had left Lestrade pulled away, turning around to fight off Holmes until he stumbled back into the door. The jarring motion had the world spinning, causing his eyes to close in hopes it would stop. “Don’t, Mycroft. . please. . “ Greg groaned softly as the large palm started pushing him into the door.

Each time he blinked the others face seemed closer and closer until a pair of lips were pressed against his. Hard to believe that lips that tore him apart so often were also a source of amazing pleasure.

“Acting so bold. Does a pet honestly deserve the same rights as the master?” Mycroft said against his lips. Another punishing bite and Greg felt the fingers wrap back around his throat.

Between each kiss and skillful squeeze Greg felt his mind slowly start falling apart. Each time he couldn’t breathe a thrill struck him, causing him to moan gently against the demanding lips.

“Pants off. Lean over the bed.” 

His movements were a bit sluggish from the whiskey. Leaving him a little worried that he’d drank too much but his body certainly wasn’t affected by it. As his pants were pushed down the edge snagged on the head of his semi-erect member, causing him to blush even though Mycroft couldn’t see.  
That bastard knew. He always knew anything.

“I don’t love you. I enjoy what we do but I’m not some bloody sap that fell in love and married too soon. This ‘thing’ between us is fun but that’s all. Maybe you’re the one who’s falling too fast.” Greg mocked, knowing he would pay greatly for such a claim. He could almost feel the pale eyes burning into him.

Without anything else needing to be said Greg bend over the edge of the bed, scanning for any trace that someone had been in this same position recently.

The sound of Mycroft moving around the room drew his attention. Even though he couldn’t look around Greg knew exactly where the bastard was headed. The dresser that held drawers full of toys ranging from riding crops, cock rings, gags and even a cute selection of vibrators.

He could almost picture Mycroft glanced down into the drawer, eyes caressing each crop and little whip until fingers wrapped around the leather coated end of one. Now he would scan his partner on the bed, watching the way his arse might arch up or the tremble of his body. Everything was clear to him. Every little secret was just another fact that was clear as day.

With no real warning the rough texture of the crop was brushed slowly along his backside, no doubt just to get his nerves put on the edge.

“Bloody twat!” Greg gasped, arching his hips forward at the first ‘slap’ against his cheeks.

It was far worse to draw out each lash. It gave the pain time to sink in with every blow and Mycroft seemed to be in a bit of a ‘stormy’ mood that night.

After what had to be the tenth blow Greg was holding at the comforter almost for dear life, head down as he bit hard at his lips to keep from crying out. His cock head was dripping onto the duvet and floor, taunting him with the proof that this was enough to drive him wild.

Everything seemed to burn. The tight feeling of his skin after being spanked with thin crop brought fresh tears when he tried to sag against the bed.

Mycroft eyed his handy work almost lovingly. Thin welts were spread over Gregs lovely arse to even his upper thighs.

With crop still in hand he grabbed at Gregs hips, pulling them upward while grinding his fully clothed lower half against the almost red flesh.

His intentions for this night were simple. Things could NOT continue as they were. That text from Sherlock that had sent him into a slight jealous rage was not how it needed to be for him. The words were the real weapon. They would drive the shame home even as he enjoyed one last entertaining night with this unforgettable body.  
“Mycroft, stop. . please. . it fucking hurts. . “ Greg moaned softly, breathing heavily as the clothed hips ground harder into the sensitive area.

With a low chuckle Mycroft gave a quick reach around, grasping the swollen length and pumping until his hand was almost dripping with his ‘pets’ seed.

“Not even close to an actual orgasm and you’re already so wet. Does your body truly yearn for it so much?” He purred, thrusting forward at the word ‘it’.

Everything he did needed to drive Greg Lestrade away. Even if he enjoyed what they were doing Greg wouldn’t keep coming back if he honestly felt his pride at stake. With that in mind he brought his hand up to the trembling lips, sighing as a soft tongue reached out to lick at his fingers.

“That’s a good boy.” Mycroft murmured. He might be trying to drive Greg away but they would enjoy every minute of it.


	4. Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

Maybe the words from earlier were still ringing in his ears but this felt even more painful than usual. Trying to cry out around the latex ball in his mouth left him almost choking on the taste and shame. He should have simply left after what Mycroft had said but the weaker part of him had begged to stay, if only to see where this was going.

With his hands bound above his head to the headboard Greg could only bite down on the ball gag, arching upward at the harsh tug to the clamps attached to his chest. It had been a while since Mycroft had used them but it had felt so natural to have it put back on. Another tug had his eyes water, tears again slipping from the corner of his eyes.

If Mycroft saw them he didn’t comment. Instead he tugged at the joining chain between the nipples clamps, paying main attention to the aching cockhead between his lips. 

Pulling away from that he carefully rolled the small ring back to the base of his lovers length, giving merely a smirking reaction when the hips arched and rolled as if in protest.

Only Gregs legs had been left untied, making it easier for him to lift and part them further as he moved up. Even with the muffled moans from the other Mycroft pushed back inside, finding it much easier considering the rough fucking he’d given Greg just a few moments before.

The choice was clear. What he needed to do was logical and had been done a few times before when a person had grown too attached to him. He hadn’t gone through the effort that he was going through with Lestrade but that fact was glazed over. Pushed back into a spot that would never be thought about if possible.

Greg was already slick with his release from before, making the fast thrust easier to handle this time around. “What if your peers were to see you like this? Or even that lovely ex-wife of yours? Having your delectable arse treated in such a manner.” Mycroft was so calm about it, so mocking. Fresh tears sprung to Gregs eyes as he arched again.

It felt so good! The gyrating motion of Mycrofts cock inside him hitting just the right spot, only to pull away to tease him. As if the damn ring constricting his orgasm wasn’t bad enough. The muffled begging didn’t have any influence on Mycrofts actions. Today seemed to be the day Holmes was trying to top everything else he’d ever done spread out over a day.

As he started to sag against the bed in defeat nimble fingers rolled the restrictive little ring off, giving Greg some form of hope this would end soon. Yanking at the cuffs keeping him locked to the headboard he tried to increase the friction himself, cursing Mycroft through the gag as the bastard kept the pace smooth.

When their eyes locked the meaning seemed crystal clear. ‘Either fuck me right or get the fuck off me.’ He mentally screamed at Mycroft.

Bringing a punishing slap to one already tender thigh Mycroft chuckled as the pain caused the other to wince. “A whore with demand. Aren’t we the bold one?” Mycroft mocked before slamming into the tight body, unable to stop the moan that slipped out with how Greg trembled under him.

Even with being tired and sore Greg tried to keep his hips moving, tightening around his lover at the right moment to draw a strangled groan from the elder Holmes.

The last punishing thrust brought him to his own release finally. Adding to the embarrassment that he didn’t even need to be touched to enjoy being fucked in the arse like this.

For a moment Mycroft simply leaned over him, breathing heavily into his ear. A gentle hand first strolled up his chest, undoing the tight clamps before reaching up to remove the cuffs. With that Mycroft felt satisfied enough to roll over onto his back, eyes drifting closed as he sighed.

Despite the soreness at such fast movement Greg had quickly sat up while removing the ball gag, tempted to spit in the others face. “Don’t start yelling, Greg. There’s really no need for it.” Mycroft sighed, rolling onto his side away from the other.

What? That was it? They never really curled up together after a moment like that but there was usually something.

“Are your affections truly so deep you must stare at me so?” Mycroft asked with a low chuckle, already knowing that Greg would get out of bed while ignoring the pain in his body. Pride was an interesting motivator at times. Lestrade wasn’t exactly the most prideful man but it was easy enough to push his buttons, as it was easy with anyone.  
As the mattress shifted from the weight change Mycroft didn’t so much as twitch, keeping his eyes closed tight as he listened.

Moving around the room to get his things Greg tried to ignore the slick feeling trickling down his thighs, causing a harsh hiss to slip out. Detouring to the bathroom he tried to clean up quickly without needing a shower right then. It was bad enough to linger like he was.

After leaving the bathroom only to find Mycroft propped up so comfortable he felt a rush to adrenaline, heart twisting as the words from before echoed in his head.

“How did Sherlock get through a childhood with you?” Greg said bitterly. It wasn’t like him wanting to actually hurt someone. Even when his wife had first left he hadn’t tried to verbally hurt her or anything. Even when Sherlock was being himself with little limitations he had never wanted to actually hurt him. Right now towards Mycroft Holmes he had the urge to both punch him and try and inflict what he’d felt.

The bored glance only stirred the anger in his gut. “Really, Greg? I had thought you were above what many of my past lovers were like. How terribly disappointing and boring.”  
It felt like record time to get a shirt and pants on. There was nothing he could say. His brain seemed to be stuck on he needed to get out of there now. He needed to go and just stay away.

That thought didn’t stop him from glancing back when at the door. Mycroft was already heading for the shower. Barely even a glance before Mycroft merely sighed, most likely mentally rolling his eyes. “What is it, Lestrade?”

As if he didn’t already know! Did he really get off on having people say what he already knew? That actually made a scary amount of sense. A heartbreaking amount of sense.  
Turning to leave he felt something inside him snap as he spun around, slamming the door behind him. “Nothing I say will be a surprise so I’m not going to bother. I know me leaving doesn’t do a damn thing to you but how can you function like this?”

“Quite easily actually. I’m not weighed down by the emotional ties that threatened to turn you into an alcoholic for example.” Mycroft replied without missing a beat, watching the color drain from Gregs face. “I function very well, Greg. You know this. Sherlock works among people that are blinded by biased clouds of emotion. I work outside of that. We both function perfectly well. It is the others, like you, that make us out like something is wrong with us. I say this again like I’ve said to my brother; sentiment is nothing but a burden. It will only drag you down, Greg!”

It was like re-watching a movie. The scene was so predicable with how Greg left the room. The look of blank hurt something that Mycroft had known would be there when he finally left but that didn’t make it better.

From a young age Mycroft had known how they were ‘different’. Any shred of emotion had been blocked off for as long as he could remember. The only time it came through was when Sherlock had been born. The kindest thing he had ever done was prepare Sherlock the best way he knew how. By reminding them both such sentiment would only drag them down.

Reminding Greg of that fact was the kindest thing he could remember doing in recent memory. 

 

The dull ache in his chest far outweighed the aches and pains in his body. Slamming the door to his flat shut Greg Lestrade felt like something was pressing hard against his chest. He’d felt it before when his wife had first left. That trembling despair that hung on the edges of his mind.

Falling to the couch he held his head in his hands, trying to control the sudden breathing spasm. Like before there had only been the empty silence of the flat after the door had shut behind her. Instead of a coy lilac scent lingering there was the musky aroma of when Mycroft had been there. It was also on him and seemed to seep down his throat, choking him slowly.

Firm hands fell to his shoulders, sending Greg to his feet quickly to spin around.

Nothing. No one and nothing again.

The laughing voice was unfamiliar. Too erratic and nervous. It was a startling moment to realize it came from him.

There was also the burning itch in the back of his throat. Begging for something strong to drink. Something that would block everything out, at least for a small while. Pushing that desire aside Greg went to shower, wanting the scent of Mycroft off him more than he wanted a strong drink.

The few times they had shared the shower Greg had only thought about how small it was. Now it felt big but at least there was room for him to move. Arching his head back into the hot spray of water he took in a huge whiff of the body wash that was all him. Nothing but him.

The little mental image of Mycroft taking a moment to actually smell him after a shower came fast and hard, shattering that blessed moment of peace. Greg couldn’t help but laugh at how truly stupid he was acting. Reaching up he tried to rub the soap out of his eyes, hating the burning sensation that made his vision almost hazy.

A visit to the pub did sound rather nice. Sitting back on the couch he thought about it. Maybe another chance to find a distraction like Glenn had almost been? At least Mycroft wouldn’t show up at his door in a jealous fit. Damn twat.

Pulling his cell out Lestrade checked the messages, finding nothing but old texts from Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. Deleting every inch of content from his phone he sent a quick message to John.

The reply was quick in the form of a call, surprising actually.

“Sherlock was about to have me call you. Listen, long story short, there’s something you should see. This falls under your division, trust me.” John said, letting out a huff like he’d been running.

His division and Sherlock had called him? Well, had John call him. “Please tell me Sherlock didn’t finally snap and kill someone.” Greg groaned, rubbing at his eyes. This was the type of distraction that one really didn’t need. Dead bodies were always such a tricky issue to get around. With Sherlock any situation was a bit tricky. Combine those two and it would have anyone losing their bloody mind!

There were muffled voices, both Johns and a harsh one that was unmistakably Sherlock. 

“Sherlock had taken a case for fun. Missing person. Well, we found the bloke.” John finally said.

After getting the location Greg stood, grabbing his keys and badge from the coffee table. Right on the edge of his teams limit but still there. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Go ahead and call the station. Donavan will listen or she’ll call me and I’ll re-explain.”

 

It was already starting to rain when Greg parked behind a building that had been a seedy pub at one point or another. The neon lights were broken and the ‘Closed’ sign was hanging to the side almost covering the pitiful ‘For Sale’ sign right under it.

John was standing nearby, hands in his pockets and hopping slightly in place like he were cold. “Donavan said it would only be a short while. Did she call you?”

“What do you think? Just got off the phone with her. The police are on their way to tape off the area. Where’s the body?” Greg asked, following after John to Sherlock who was still looking over the body. 

“Gloves! Bloody hell, Sherlock! How can you expect us to do anything when you’re just touching the blasted body like that?!” Greg couldn’t help but snap, frustrations of earlier peeking out. The lash out was a bit of a surprise for John who said nothing but Sherlock stood carefully, holding his hands up to show the clear gloves he’d started carrying around just in case.

The pale eyes scanned him carefully, a brow rising in a painfully familiar way. To his credit Sherlock said nothing. Maybe John was having a good influence on the less than human man. “Things not going so well with my brother?”. Maybe not.

“Sherlock!” John hissed, glaring up at the man. The confused look would have been comical if it hadn’t come after a question like that. “I thought friends could ask personal questions. You said Lestrade was our friend.” Sherlock defended, tensing at the scolding look that answered him.

“It’s fine, John. It’s not a big deal. Just let me look at the scene now. Thanks.” Greg said with a nervous laugh, hating how Sherlock had simply seen everything with just a careful glance. It really wasn’t a big deal anymore. Maybe sentiment really was just some sort of weakness.

Soon enough the scent was surrounded by a small amount of policemen who taped the area off. By the time his own team arrived Sherlock had already explained what must have happened. Of course Anderson tried to pluck holes in everything. He just couldn’t help it really. Instead of getting snippy like in the past Sherlock actually seemed to be trying to ignore him.

“Anderson, shut up. That’s coming from me, not Holmes.” Greg finally snapped, running a hand over his hair. The rain was picking up pretty fast. The plastic tent they’d set up wouldn’t last a long time with how the rain was doing. They didn’t have time to simply bitch at each other.

It was horrible to say while standing at a murder scene but there was really nothing better to completely draw a person’s attention. Greg felt a little bad thinking it as he watched them take the body off to be better examined but it had kept his mind completely busy. He did notice how John kept glancing at him, no doubt worried. Watson really was an oddly soft hearted military man. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed tense and ready to go from the moment everyone started arriving.

“So, you think the girlfriend had him killed?” Greg asked with a frown. Sherlock sighed at the repeated question. “Yes. She’s the only one with motive. She wasn’t the one who actually killed him but I knew that from the moment she came begging for help.”

“Wait, you knew you would find him dead? Sherlock! You should have said something before.” He said, tossing a frown at John who looked away innocently. Sherlock was having an influence on John alright. “Really, Lestrade? Even if I had come to your team you wouldn’t have been able to do anything without proof. My word alone would have been proof enough but you haven’t realized that yet.” Sherlock grumbled the last part.

Feeling the tension starting to rise a bit John placed a hand on Sherlocks shoulder, giving him a firm look. “Thanks, Greg. Hope things. . look up.” John said with a small smile before walking off with Sherlock, their hushed voices almost making him chuckle. After Mycroft had mentioned the two were actually sleeping together Greg couldn’t help but notice what was different about how they acted towards each other.

Finally heading back to his car Greg thought about stopping by a pub. Well, after stopping back by his flat for a change of dry clothes. As for the case everything would need to be reviewed before they could actually do anything. Not to mention an actual cause of death, not just what Sherlock thought it was. Not that he’d ever been wrong. Smug bastard.  
Instinct took over at a chill running down his spine. Quickly a hand went to rest at the gun by his side, eyes scanning the dark street behind him. “Hello?” He called out, slowly lifting the handgun from its holster as his other hand turned the key in the lock.

Even in the car his heart rate didn’t go down completely. This wouldn’t be the first time paranoia had hit him while leaving a scene and it certainly wouldn’t be the last! Dealing with murder cases had taken their toll at times but it was only made worse by what had happened earlier. Stress never had helped him cope with work very much.

Deciding against the pub idea Greg locked the flat door quickly, trying to brush the rain drops from his hair. Another hot shower sounded perfect after having to walk around in that blasted mess! Maybe it would also help his nerves. That awkward feeling of being watched was there, lingering to the point he actually took the time to look through his flat as if expecting to find someone.

A few sips of the whiskey from the kitchen had his nerves settling quite quickly. A thankful release honestly.

Standing in the shower he tried to block out everything, only reflecting on the details of the case. He’d actually need to talk to Sherlock considering a ‘fun’ case he’d taken on had led to them finding the body. Leave it to Sherlock alright.

Greg had his eyes closed when a crashing noise behind his bathroom door quickly drew his attention. Pulling back the curtain he tried to scan the room for any sort of weapon. The back part of the toilet honestly seemed to be his best bet with how solid the porcelain was.

“Who the hell are you?” He yelled as the person banged into his bathroom door again. Of course the no answer wasn’t a surprise. The door started to give in as he held up the only weapon he had managed to find in his damn bathroom. The gun was already hidden away in the usual draw by his bedside.

It was a pure rush as the man gave another kick to the door, shattering it from the broken lock and frame. There was no immediate gunshot so maybe no fire arm. The knife was a bit of a surprise but even his eyes could see this was someone who liked knives over guns judging by how he was holding it.

Blade tip down and blade pointed away from his body. Knock the bastard out and it would be fine.

With the cramped space of the bathroom the attacker could only rush forward or wait for Greg to make a move. When the masked figure came at him Greg made the stupid mistake of starting to swing full force, wanting to curse himself as the man stepped back only long enough for it to pass by his head.

Everything froze in that second. Even his mind seeming to pause as the useless weapon slipped from his hands. How had he made such a mistake? He wasn’t some newbie at defending himself. There had been plenty of times. Why did he have to fuck this up now?

The only merciful thing was how painless it was. In and out. Only a sharp pain for a moment and he was falling to his knees, hands automatically reaching for the wound. Feeling ones own blood slip through their fingers was something he doubted anyone could really get used to.

“This. . about the body?” Greg found himself asked, grip growing tighter over the gash in his side. “Does it matter?” The man chuckled in a tone that was clearly a ‘yes’.

Satisfied that the officer would bleed out soon enough he went to leave, wiping the blade off on the towel sitting on the counter top. Greg tried to wait until he was sure the man was out of hearing range before crawling to the counter to grab the towel, using it as a make-shift gauze as he stood carefully.

He didn’t dare look down even when he felt something wet soak through the towel. The phone was right there on the bed. Right there.

It was getting harder to keep upright as he grabbed the phone. Sinking onto the floor he tried to keep sitting up at least as he called for an ambulance first, voice shaking somewhat as he gave a quick brief about what had happened.

Even with them coming Greg wasn’t completely sure about the situation this time. Sagging against the bed he held the phone tightly to his ear, hitting the only speed dial number he had.

The familiar voice had him laughing weakly, head lowering.

“Greg? What’s wrong?” John asked his own panic showing through.

“K-keep an eye on S-Sherlock. That case of his. . someone. . “ He tried to keep talking but everything started to slur together before the phone slipped from his hand.

“Greg? Greg?!”

Tears burned to life as he tried to keep his mind awake, more scared of falling asleep than the man with the knife coming back.

As his mind started to go blank Greg Lestrade gave a small smirk, closing his eyes.

“Bloody bastard. . “


	5. Seeing things.

Loud voices, rough movement and a stinging pain to his wound were the only things proving to Greg that he hadn’t died yet. Stab wounds might not have seemed like a big deal but he knew the different factors it could bring. He could have already bled out or infection could take him.

Finally able to open his eyes he almost laughed until the pain sucked out the merriment. “John, bloody hell, wh-what are you doing here?” Greg asked, wincing as the cot under him rose up and started to roll. “They’re taking you to the hospital. We’ll be right there, Greg.” John called as Greg was pushed out of the house to the waiting ambulance.

The police were already there, digging around the room for any evidence on who had broken in. Sherlock stood to the side, lips pursed tightly together until John rejoined him. “Do you want to stay here and look or come to the hospital with me? I’m going now.” John said, trying to be a little gentle. After that call he’d never seen the man move so fast and now, instead of going around pointing everything the police were missing, he stood in the corner tense.

“I have everything I need, John. Whoever did this was aiming for a kill. It wasn’t a robbery because nothing appears to be missing. Even the front door was neatly broken into. It wasn’t personal since it was just a single stab wound. If it were personal Lestrade. .” He stopped there, licking his lips. The look on Johns face was ranging from worried to horrified. “Were you able to see any of the wound before the paramedics took him?” Sherlock asked now, placing a hand on Johns elbow as they left the house.  
“Deep. Whatever did it had a jagged edge to tear instead of slice. Making it harder to just stich up.” John said before frowning. “Should one of us call Mycroft?”

Holding up a hand to hail a cab Sherlock frowned, shaking his head. “Why should we? He’ll hear about it soon enough, I’m sure. If you feel so inclined to send a text to Mycroft through my phone you may.” Sherlock offered before getting into the cab that stopped in front of them.

 

For a moment Mycroft Holmes simply sat there, seeing the words even when the screen went blank. Sucking in a breath he went to get out of bed. He felt light headed. Sitting back he gave a small laugh, rubbing at his chest slightly. It hurt.

This sweeping ache wasn’t familiar. Reaching up to rub at his eyes Mycroft sighed, frowning to himself. This damned feeling was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. Wasn’t it bad enough he had to worry about Sherlock almost all of his waking hours?

Holding the phone to his ear he gave something close to his usual smirking smile. At the moment there was one main thing he needed to do.

As the voice on the other end answered Mycroft stood, heading for his closet. “Yes. Have the video footage of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrades home pulled from the last hour or so. Identify anyone suspicions. I’ll expect something in the next half an hour.”

Tossing the phone back towards the bed he stood in front of the many suits he’d bought over the years. Heading to the hospital was the second thing on his mind. What impression would that make? It would undo everything he had made sure would happen. If Greg. . died he would know. So, logically there was no reason for him to actually go to the hospital. Sherlock had been drug there by John but the man was hardly thinking logically these days.

For once he was honestly at a cross roads. The impression of him showing up was risky. Even if he couldn’t show his face at the hospital he had already taken the steps leading to making a police investigation completely unnecessary.

The reasons of why that person had been at Gregs were hardly important. The grave was already dug and waiting.

 

The blurred faces of John Watson hovered a few times, as well as Sherlock. It had to be just the pain. Why would either of them be. . well. . where was he? Whenever he tried to think about it Greg felt like his head would simply explode.

“Stop it, Sherlock.” Greg mumbled, looking away from the inquisitive stare. “Stop what exactly, Lestrade?”

The amused tone had him groaning, trying to turn until the sharp pain in his side made movement nearly impossible. “Looking at me like that. Like I’m nothing more than an experiment. . “ He yawned, wincing at that burning smell that reminded him too much of hospitals.

“Sherlock, lay off. We can go back to the flat if you like.” John said softly, checking the mans chart one more time. Technically against the rules but he was a doctor. “Slight infection but he’s responding to the drugs.” He murmured, glancing one more time at Lestrade who was snoring softly again. “Mycroft never did respond to that text.”

“Of course not. If he’s going to respond at all it would be through a call but why do you think he would respond? Things were ended between Lestrade and my brother.” Sherlock said, glancing back once at Greg. Hospitals were notorious for infections but at least he was responding. Greg really was a good colleague and something of a friend.

John rolled his eyes, shutting the room door behind them. “Still, it just seems kind of like something to respond to. At least when it’s been almost a week.” John said, not sure if he understood either Holmes brother more than he had when first meeting them. “Mycroft most likely assumes that, in the event of Lestrades passing, someone would contact him. You worry too much, John.”

Greg gave a soft groan, eyes cracking open. Where. . ? Oh, ya, he’d been stabbed by some nutcase in a bloody mask!

Rubbing at his face he tried to sit up but he just felt so tired. Sagging back into the bed he tried to let sleep take him again until movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. “I must be dreaming. What the hell are you doing here?” Greg murmured, trying to sit up again only to have his head spin with the movements.

A familiar hand placed itself on his forehead, easing some of the heat. “Standard infection. You really must make everything difficult.” Mycroft sighed, running the back of his hand slowly down the flushed cheek. “For a dream you sure feel pretty solid.” Greg said with a frown, almost laughing at the mocking chuckle. “Merely a fever induced hallucination. Quite common.”

Could it really just be his mind being played with by both the fever and drugs they had him on? It was nearly heartbreaking to consider that. Leaning his cheek into the stroking hand Greg gave a small sigh, eyes closing again. “Should have known. Mycroft is too much of a twat to come here.”

Mycroft couldn’t help but smirk slightly in amusement. This little fever induced state really did come in handy, didn’t it? Resting his hand on Gregs chest he felt the steady beat of his heart, almost shivering. If only Sherlock could see him now. Somewhat of a mess all over another human being. It really was his undoing to have taken Greg Lestrade as his lover.

As Greg dozed off again he took his hand back, walking around the bed towards the door. Greg was quickly coming back to his senses. This really needed to be the last time he was so foolish as to come. All the times he’d scolded Sherlock for being foolish crossed his mind. The shoe being on the other foot metaphor fitting rather well.  
Leaving the hospital he gave a small smile as the phone in his pocket rang. “Mycroft.” He answered, feeling more than a little pleased.

“Turn the evidence over to the police but as for our little friend that. . should be handled a tad bit differently.”

 

“Doctor said they’ll let me go tomorrow. About bloody time too.” Greg said, taking a sip of the juice they had him stuck on for the time being. A strict diet of fluids and anything else bland that would be easy on his body. Just because it made sense didn’t mean he had to actually like it.

Tipping his plastic cup towards John he also gave a nod to Sally and Molly. It had been a bit of a surprise to see them but there had been a good many visitor’s since he had actually started getting better. “Do you plan on taking any more time off?” Sally asked, glancing at her watch when it gave a beep. “I really need to be shoving off but it’s so to see you’re doing better.” She said, walking over to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder as Molly came over to give a little hug. “Wait, Sally, what about the case?” He asked before she could leave with Molly.

“Oh, ya, someone turned in all the evidence we needed. Just an anonymous tip you could say. The victims girlfriend and some guy she was shagging on the side did the boyfriend in, and she confessed to the guy coming after you. We have her in custody but he seems to have gone missing.” She explained. “Just. . missing? There’s got to be something.” Greg asked before Sally shook her head. “Nothing. Even the girl doesn’t seem to have any idea where he went. She claims he just went up in smoke.”

Certainly wouldn’t be the first time a suspect went missing. Before he could start grilling for answers Sally shook her head. “Stay. Rest. It’ll be waiting when you get back. Come on, Molly. I can give you a ride.” Sally said quickly.

“Well, Sherlock, it goes without saying but I know how your ego loves to verbally hear that you were right. Any ideas on what happened to the guy who did it?” Greg asked, leaning back into the mound of pillows.

John choked softly on his water, blushing when both men looked at him. “Sorry. Wrong. . tube. Sorry.” John murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck as Sherlock gave a smug smile. “I have ideas. Nothing worth mentioning at this point in time.” Sherlock said calmly. “Nothing worth mentioning? Sherlock Holmes not talking just to hear the sound of his own voice? I must still be dreaming.” Greg said, not bothering to hide his confusion.

With a graceful stand Sherlock glanced down at John, heading towards the door. “John, you must know something. What aren’t you telling me?” Greg asked.

Pausing at the door John looked between Greg and Sherlock, giving a sheepish smile. “You sure we can’t just tell him? It’s not as if you’re even sure of it.” John said.  
“John.” Sherlock sighed the name, giving him a knowing stare. Watching the relationship between the two was rather interesting. Almost amusing at times. It was more amusing when they weren’t withholding information from him. “You aren’t going to tell them at the station, are you?” He asked with a sigh.

“Brilliant thought process.” Sherlock said, taking Johns arm. “We’ll stop by later, Greg. I at least will.” John called before the door shut.

With the onslaught of visitors finally slowed Greg had a moment to think about what he needed to do. His flat had already been cleaned after searched for evidence. Not that they seemed to find much of it. Resting a hand over his stomach Greg closed his eyes, wishing he could just sleep. Maybe it was time to find a new flat. Maybe something smaller, more suited for a single working man.

Chuckling softly he tried not to let that word ‘single’ bother him so much. He’d been single since his blasted wife had left. Mycroft didn’t count.

 

“Sherlock, are you ever going to ask Mycroft if he had something to do with that man going missing? I’m sure you’re going too sooner or later because you’ll have to know if you’re right.” John said as they headed back to their flat. Without a word Sherlock pulled out his phone, holding up the bright screen to show where he’d asked that same question to Mycroft. “Silence alone is a damning answer, wouldn’t you agree?” Sherlock said.

It was more than a little unnerving to think about the type of power Mycroft had. If a man could be accused of ruling the world single handedly it would be Mycroft Holmes. John had no idea how far that power exactly reached beyond what Sherlock had commented before but it was. . kind of odd to think about someone going missing so easily and quickly.

Licking his lips he looked away from the phone, shaking his head. “So, Mycroft had a hand in this. He does know the type of image that gives, right? You Holmes brothers are just confusing.” John murmured, feeling his heart pick up pace when a nimble fingered hand placed itself on his side. “You don’t mind too much. It’s a thrill for you.” Sherlock said with the smallest of smirks.

 

Walking back into the familiar flat Greg felt a twitch of paranoia, making him look around the place at least twice before he finally decided to take a seat. What mainly had him stopping was the dull pain in his side were the wound was still bandaged up. Heading into the bedroom he felt a shiver. Everything was in place. No stain where he’d bled on the carpet and a glance into the bathroom showed someone had even replaced the back of the toilet.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. The panicked feeling that had him kneeling right on the floor, sweat blooming at his forehead. Strangled laughter had him shaking as he rubbed at his face, eyes closed tight. It was defiantly type to find a new flat but what was he supposed to do now? And why was this even a problem for him? He’d been shot in his career, stabbed before in the thigh and just had worse done to him.

Leaning back against the wall he took in a breath, debating about finding a hotel to stay at or if he should just try to get through this until he found a new flat.

Getting up Greg went to sit on the bed, pulling a little bottle of pills out of his jacket. Just a little nap and he’d worry about it. He had another day or two off.

Dry swallowing one of the little white pills Greg laid back, breathing heavily. Just a few minutes and he’d be sleeping all of this away for a little while at least. Before he could bother with the covers he was snoring softly, finally relaxed.

Greg was so out of it he didn’t even feel the tip of the umbrella parting his coat. “That snoring issue. Maybe we should have that checked on.” Mycroft murmured, running the tip of the umbrella along Lestrades chest before leaning it against the bed.

When the others eyes fluttered open he paused, growing still. “Of bloody course. . “ Greg murmured in a slurred voice before his eyes closed again. “I don’t even want to see a fake Mycroft right now. Just go away.”

Raising an eyebrow in question Mycroft scanned Gregs body, a tiny smirk forming at the sight of his hips arching. “Injured and you’re still easy to arouse. Really, Greg? Naughty.” Mycroft sighed, sitting slowly as to not disturb the mans body too much. This was quite amusing. Those pills were really quite strong.

“Stop it. . “ Greg murmured, feeling a hand rest first at his stomach before it drifted further. The touch felt so real. Reaching for the hand he grabbed the wrist, only to have his grip shaken off with barely a flick of the fake Mycrofts wrist. “Mycroft, you’re such a bastard. .” He said, cracking his eyes open again. Everything felt so heavy.

“You’re really so harsh, Lestrade.” Mycroft chuckled, greatly amused by the sight of Greg struggling to keep his eyes open. Finally placing his hand between his ex-lovers legs Mycroft rubbed carefully, feeling the bulge that was struggling to stay hard. “Nooo.” Greg moaned, trying to shake the hand off as he sucked in a breath.

His head felt so full!

It felt like the bed moved for a moment before phantom like lips pressed against his. Out of habit his hands reached up to rest on the others shoulders, his own lips parting. Was this really happening? “Mycroft. . ?” Greg murmured again, trying to pull away but the lips were firmly pressed against his as the gently rubbing hand remained between his legs.  
When the hands at his shoulders fell away Mycroft pulled back, finding Greg completely limp and asleep.

Chuckling softly he stood, grabbing the umbrella before starting to leave with the cell phone already out.

Holding it to his ear he stepped out of the flat, going to the sleek car waiting for him. 

“Yes. Do send for Dr. John Watson. I have some urgent business to discuss with him.”


	6. Ideas

Digging around in the kitchen John was torn between thinking he’d gone batty or wondering if he had somehow misplaced the little tea tin.

“Sherlock! Did you move the tea somewhere?” He called, scratching at the nape of his neck. There was a gruff noise of annoyance from Sherlock who had been in deep thought, as usual. “I needed the tin for an experiment. Now shut up.”

An experiment?

“What the bloody hell did you do with the tea?”

Now there just wasn’t an answer. Peeking over to the familiar perch he was torn between annoyance and amusement at the sight of Sherlock just sitting there. When his mind was working like this it was a small miracle that he would even reply at all. Of course that didn’t really explain about the damned tea or the blasted experiment but John wasn’t sure he wanted to know about that. He’d learned early on not to push about those little ‘boredom erasers’.

With a sigh John went to grab his coat, making sure to make a good bit of noise just to irk the detective. When the pale eyes did dart over to him in question he merely gave a good natured smile. “Going to the store. We seem to be out of tea.”

The store was just a few blocks away and he could use the fresh air. Not that there wasn’t a healthy dose of getting outside with Sherlock, but the man was so focused right now it wouldn’t be a shock if he remained on that couch for the next few days. It was rather endearing though.

John couldn’t help but smile fondly as he thought about the curly haired brainiac. Even with his mind distracted that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the black car that was pulled up across the street.

The sleek car stood there blending in even as it stood out like a sore thumb. Licking his lips Watson turned to head down the block until his phone started buzzing.  
What now?

John quickly made his way across the street, getting into the car. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what Mycroft Holmes wanted now but there was no point. Not even the texting happy assistant was back here. Time to just sit back and wait.

It was such a good thing Mycroft wasn’t into being super dramatic. Like, for example, having the car bring him to an obviously abandoned warehouse far away from the public eye.

Oh ya..

Sighing softly he got out only to be greeted by the distracted texter. Well, distracted wasn’t the right phrase. She knew exactly what she was doing. One quick glance up and she smiled.

“Dr. Watson.”

“. . You.” John replied in greeting, shrugging slightly. It wasn’t like he’d ever learned the womans damn name.  
With a little chuckle she turned to lead the way, stopping at the end of a long hallway.

So Mycroft had added in a nice long tunnel, hm?

“Need to start charging for my time. . “ John sighed as he kept going.

 

“Doctor Watson. So pleased you could make it. With my brother enjoying a case I assumed he wouldn’t be keeping you as. . ‘busy’ as he has of late.” Mycroft chuckled almost warmly but John knew that tone. Not to mention the implication of his damn statement.

Tapping the end of his umbrella against the cold concrete Mycroft shook his head. “I haven’t brought you here to spy on Sherlock this time around. I merely have something of a favor.”

“And you couldn’t just call me or something? I thought we’d gotten past this whole kidnapping me whenever it suited you.” John said, crossing his arms.

For a moment the all-knowing smirk faded around the edges, leaving John slightly confused. “You know Greg Lestrade was recently released from the hospital. I don’t believe it’s healthy for him to be in his old flat. The memories of a rather painful divorce mixed with a recent attempt on his life, it doesn’t bode well.” Mycroft explained, feeling his heart pick up pace as John watched him.

John Watson was hardly a Sherlock Holmes but he was also far from stupid.

When the eyes grew wide with this new knowledge Mycroft cleared his throat, growing a tad frustrated with this now.

“Until he can find a new flat I want you and Sherlock to welcome him into your home. If money is a factor consider it paid.”

“I won’t take money to help a friend. What makes you think Greg would even agree to this? And why can’t he stay with you?”

It was obvious Mycroft cared for Greg, in at least the way a Holmes could care for someone. Going through this entire effort? Why had Mycroft even broken things off with Greg if he felt like this?

“He will. As for your other question, I think you know the answer well enough. There is no room in my life for distractions.”

Matter of fact. Straight to the point. It was just rather depressing. Sherlock had said the exact same thing after their first night together. These damn Holmes brothers were far too similar in the worst ways.

“You made someone go missing over Greg. That already sounds like a distraction you can’t simply ignore.”

Mycroft tensed before giving a small laugh. “I am afraid I had a rather dramatic moment.”

“But you’re not going to bring this person back, are you?” John asked, feeling a chill go up his spine at the Cheshire worthy smile that answered.

Licking his hips John tensed as the phone in his pocket started buzzing with a text. “I’m fine with Greg staying with us. Sherlock might mind a little bit but I know he would like to help Greg.”

With more texts buzzing the phone Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sherlock has grown protective over you, hm? Little Sherlock always did grow overly attached to new things.”

“Thank goodness you’re above all that.” John retorted sharply, turning without another word and starting to walk off. If this hadn’t been for Gregs sake he would have happily ignored the request but Greg Lestrade was actually a good friend of his now, and even Sherlock was a tiny bit fond of the inspector. They just wouldn’t be able to say it was Mycroft who had suggested the whole arrangement.

Watching John walk away Mycroft glared after him, knuckles growing white around the umbrella handle. Such a sassy little mouth that Watson had. No wonder Sherlock was so attached to the bloody twit. At least he’d agreed to hosting Greg but Mycroft had known he would. John was the caring type, and very loyal.

From what he knew Greg had been given more time off from work after his doctor refused to sign off that he was fit to return to full duty. Plenty of time for him to settle into the flat with John and Sherlock while finding his own.

The offer had certainly been a surprise. More of a shock really. A simple text only an hour ago from a certain Holmes brother.

‘John said you’re to stay here while finding a new flat. Do NOT go through my flat. – S.H’

Under any other circumstances Greg would have turned it down but he couldn’t relax while here. The pills helped but he couldn’t function while on them. What was he supposed to do? Be doped up the entire time he was here?

At least there weren’t many things he wanted to bother bringing along for now. Besides, the flat was still in his name so nothing needed to be moved right now.

Maybe even being around other people would help distract away from other thoughts. Even if one of his new flat mates happened to be the younger brother of that unpleasant thought.

Stepping outside to pull the door shut he paused, remembering that dream from last night. Just thinking about it had his blood running hot. It had felt beyond real. As had other strange hallucinations in the hospital. Even after asking the hospital staff about a visitor they hadn’t said anything about someone who looked like Mycroft.

Touching the spot on his chest where the tip of that damn umbrella had been. Well, where his dream had pictured it.

Shaking the feeling off he quickly went to his car. A day away from this place would be a mini break within itself!

John was the one to greet him, giving one of his warm smiles before nodding behind him. “Just this way. Sherlock is busy thinking. Feel free to ignore whatever he says, it’s what I usually do.” John chuckled, leading the way to the flat itself.

Just as cluttered as Greg could remember. Well, it was a tad bit better but John couldn’t pick up after Sherlock all the time. Certainly wouldn’t have been a fair thing to ask of him.  
“If this isn’t a good idea I don’t have to stay.” Greg commented, quickly noticing how Sherlock was watching him. Couldn’t exactly blame a man who no doubt had a few questionable items hidden around the apartment. Damned thrill-seeker that he was. “Of course you don’t ‘have’ to stay. John insisted that you stay. They both insist it’s the best for you. Can’t say I disagree completely.” Sherlock said.

‘They’? Greg frowned, about to ask until John grabbed his arm to gently shift him around towards the stairs leading to his old room. “Your room will just be up there. Sherlock and I. . um. . you know share that room.” John said, gesturing towards the other bedroom door. “He knows we’re sleeping together, John. No reason to act like that.” Sherlock tossed out much to both of the other fellows embarrassment.

Trying to escape the now teasing gaze that was focused on how red Johns face could get both men headed up to the room. “Sherlock is Sherlock.” John chuckled, nodding towards the bed and simple desk. For the most part everything had been cleared out after he’d moved down into Sherlocks room.

“John, Sherlock said ‘they’. Now, I know what Sherlock thinks of my mental capabilities but I do know Sherlock Holmes doesn’t say anything by accident.” Greg said, dropping his bag on the bed as John crossed his arms with a shrug. “I know you’re not stupid, Greg. We both know how the Holmes brothers can be. They’re hard headed and logical to a fault.”  
Sitting back on the bed Greg pulled out the pill bottle, giving it a little shake. “John, you’re a doctor. What are the chances of my pain medication causing hallucinations so real it felt like I could them or make it feel like I did touch them?”

“I can’t really say. I’ve never treated you but, for curiosity sake, what did you see? Was it a flash back of the stabbing?” John asked, growing a little worried when Greg rubbed at his face and laughed softly. “No. I kept seeing Mycroft. That damned twat was there almost every bloody night. Even last night after I took my pills he was there.”

Did Mycroft not see what was happening or did he just not care?

Reaching out to place a comforting hand on the others shoulder he smiled warmly. “Things will perk up soon. You’re just going through a few understandable things that are leaving you a bit muffled but everything is good here.”

 

After Sherlock had called John down he was left alone, listening to the others downstairs carry on normally. It was kind of strange to think of Sherlock having a ‘normal’ type of life.

Another shock was the faint sounds of laughter on Johns end as he moved around in what sounded like the kitchen. Even Sherlock managed to have a stable sounding relationship.

His phone had only been ringing with well-wishers and a few work calls. Nothing from Mycroft. He’d tried typing up a few texts while in the hospital but what would he really say?  
Just contacting Mycroft made him out to be clingy and rather pathetic.

Greg sighed as he held the phone to his ear, listening to the impossibly long ring until it simply clicked off. No voicemail or anything.

“Fuck off, Mycroft.” Greg sighed, laughing softly at the rhyming sound of it.

Listening to John downstairs Greg gave a little smile. Things would get better after this. He’d go back to work and start agreeing to a few of those blind dates. At least he could go out and meet other people. He wasn’t old enough to give up yet.

Things did seem to get better over the next day or so. At least when Sherlock wasn’t demanding he shut up. Or when he happened to overhear just how loud John Watson happened to be in the bedroom. For such a calm made he certainly made quite the ruckus in the bedroom. The morning after a night like that was usually met with slight embarrassment on Greg and Johns part, and pride on Sherlocks.

There was also a little bit of jealousy. Not enough to be obvious, at least not to John. Sherlock no doubt knew about it very well.

It was only about a week later that he managed to find something close to work within a proper budget. Actually it had been John who’d brought the Ad to him after going out to the store.

“You don’t have to rush, Greg. I can understand if you want to. Not a lot of privacy and. . well. . Sherlock.” John chuckled, setting the water glass down in front of the detective. 

With a nod of thanks Greg took his pills before drinking the water down, fingers carefully rubbing over the sore area. No problem besides the pain but John was even keeping a look on it.

Shaking his head Greg tried to smile. “It’s just time. I know Sherlock isn’t completely thrilled with me invading your space and I think a part of him is paranoid about us spending time together without him around.” Greg joked. “I just helped you with the dishes and he was too busy pouting the rest of the night for even a decent conversation.”

John couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Sherlock is hard to understand. At least there’s never a dull moment, right?” He chuckled. “So, Greg, any plans for when you go back to work? They’re still trying to set you up and after what happened you could no doubt have a fair pick.”

Sitting back in the chair Greg shook his head, thinking over it again. “There are just a few options I’m exploring. A few blind dates can’t hurt, right? Should be some bit of fun.” Greg said, even more nervous now that he’d actually told someone of his idea. That had been why he’d told someone though. So he couldn’t talk himself out of it.

 

The new flat was a little smaller than his last one but that was perfect actually. Just enough space for everything he actually wanted to bring along and it gave him a good excuse to sell the rubbish he didn’t actually want.

With a little bit of help he was moved in a few days after getting the stitches take out. There were jokes about him hosting a party after returning to work as people were leaving. It certainly was an interesting idea but space didn’t exactly leave much hope.

The kitchen was tiny but comfortable for just one person. The sitting room was tied into the dining area, which worked for him. Heading into the bedroom he glanced around at the scattered boxes before going to the bathroom, locking the door firmly as he stripped down.

Things in his life were going along at a decent pace. Mycroft chucking him to the side had been a good thing no doubt.

Greg chuckled softly at himself before looking into the mirror molded into the bathroom door. At first it had seemed rather strange for it to just be there. Someone had mentioned taking it down but a little voice had begged Greg to keep it.

Holding the phone up he felt a devilish thrill go through him at the first ‘click’ of the camera going off. Far easier to get a picture this way than having to angle with the mirror above the counter.

Reaching down slowly shaking fingers wrapped around the already semi-hard cock. With all the distractions lately Greg certainly hadn’t bothered fixing his ‘stress’, so getting hard was almost too easy. As his head fell back on a moan Greg almost thought about simply dropping the phone and saying ‘fuck it’ but that little voice was egging him on.

With his thumb teasing at the leaking slit Greg took another picture, not caring if it was a little shaky. It would be easy enough to tell what it was.

The cheap little phone camera kept clicking away as his hand moved faster, squeezing just hard enough to draw out his breath.

“Mycroft. . “

Greg hated to say the name but just saying it had his mind working up the images of skillful fingers teasing at his nipples, almost punishing the little nubs. The mocking chuckle when he enjoyed it too much.

As the phone was dropped to the ground Greg reached up to twist one of the sensitive nubs hard, causing his hips to jerk as his breathing grew rougher.

Grabbing onto the edge of the counter he leaned back against the cool creamy tile, eyes following the messy trail. “I guess that counters as breaking in the bathroom. .” He gasped softly, giving his head a little shake before picking up the phone again.

Maybe a little overboard with the amount but he only planned on sending a few.

Stupid idea? Most likely.

Did he actually care? Not really.

In the subject line he simply put ‘Stress Relief’ before hitting ‘Send’. There was the chance Mycroft wouldn’t even get these pictures but that little voice was giving some pretty good reasons why it was fun to chance it.

After that Greg turned the phone off so he could hop in the shower, feeling more than a little content with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there hasn't been as much kink like the other chapters. I still hope you enjoyed it. It'll return quite soon. :3


	7. Twat.

The phone remained on the bathroom counter, off, for the remainder of the night. If he’d been heading back into work the next day he wouldn’t have risked it but for the time being it was quite alright to leave it off.

Rolling over in bed Greg winced as he brushed the still tender area against the sheets. At least he’d finally slept through a whole night. That little splurge of last night had been more relaxing than anything else that came to mind. Sagging back against the bed he ran fingers over the uncomfortably longer hair. It wasn’t even long by office standards but it just felt weird. Even after the divorce he’d made sure to keep his hair neatly trimmed.

Maybe that could be his little errand of the day. Well, more like an excuse to not be lying about in bed like all the doctors had wanted before he returned to work. He couldn’t just return to the office with shaggy hair, right?

As he headed into the bathroom Greg glanced at the phone left on the counter. Still off and right where he’d left it. Picking it up there was an unmistakable shiver of excitement as the ‘on’ tone came on. So, it was almost enough to dampen his mood to find nothing waiting for him.

No call, no text. Nothing.

It had been risky to send. No real promise of reply. Didn’t exactly soften the annoyance bubbling up. Sweeping through the phone Lestrade made sure to delete everything, including the sending history. A normal habit after doing such a little show but now he just wanted it gone so it would be easier to put out of his mind.

 

By the time he left the new flat Greg wasn’t sure about actually getting out. The little pill bottle sat back on the bedside table, left behind so he could try to work through any pain. He couldn’t simply start popping pills at work. His job didn’t exactly leave that much wiggle room for mistakes.

After only a few blocks he had to take a little breather. Sitting on the little bench watching everyone walk around Greg had a little moment of weakness. There were little things he noticed a ‘normal’ person might not but one of the Holmes brothers would easily be able to detect every story of every person walking around. It had almost been a game when he was younger. Watch a few strangers and guess their life stories from only a few minutes observing.

Greg tried to picture a younger Sherlock doing that, or even a younger Mycroft. That little mental image was almost impossible to dig up. A proper little chap sitting to the side, sharp stormy eyes roving on everything and everyone.

“Probably too damned lazy to keep it up for long. .” Greg murmured before smirking, unable to help the small bout of giggles that welled up. When a few people stopped to stare at him in question Lestrade quickly stood, ignoring the pain in his side as he pushed onward to get out of their sight. Even their confused stares didn’t quench the little stream of laughter.

At least by the time he was getting the barely shaggy hair trimmed up he’d managed to control himself. The normal bullshit conversations were a good enough distraction to get through the little task.

As the barber rattled on about his favorite sports team Greg tried to tell if that was the phone vibrating in his pocket or not.

“Starting to get a little harm in here to any of you?” Greg asked, trying not to move around in the chair like an unruly child. The barber stopped for a moment, trying to judge for himself. “Feels perfectly fine in here to us.” He said, looking at Gregs face in the mirror. “You look a little pale. Nothing contagious?”

“Nothing contagious. You almost done?”

The haircut seemed to wrap up in record time. This time the barber being extra careful not to accidentally touch Greg more than needed.

Stealing another glance of himself in the large mirror Lestrade couldn’t exactly say he blamed the bloke. Somehow he’d managed to run himself ragged in the course of walking from his flat to here. Sweaty, pale but with a faint flush that gave reason to think he had a fever.

Heading home Greg could almost hear the scolding doctors tone from when he’d been at Sherlock and Johns flat.

Only a few blocks away from what he now called home he sat on another bench, watching different people go by. This time he didn’t exactly feel comfortable enough to try and make a game out of it. The tender area was throbbing, causing sweat to bead at his forehead and the back of his neck. Trying to tell himself the sooner he got home the better it would be Greg stood, taking only a few more steps until a black car pulled up next to him.

“Oh no. No no no.” Greg murmured, trying to walk faster only to nearly stumble. The car kept following, drawing more attention than the random laughter had. And why wouldn’t it? Here he was walking down the street with a car following him, obviously following him.

As the pain started to spread he pulled the door open, getting inside. “Fine. Just take me home.” Greg sighed in frustration, wishing he hadn’t left the pills on the bedside table.  
Greg let himself relax back into the comfortable seat, eyes drifting closed for what only felt like a moment. It couldn’t have been that long until the car stopped but when Greg mentally brushed the light cover of sleep away to reach for the car handle there was something obviously wrong with their location.

“No. I said take me home. I am NOT going in there!” Greg tried to argue with the driver but the man just kept facing forward. Really? Why would Mycroft do this to him now? Even if he had wanted to be ‘punished’ for those pictures last night he couldn’t handle it.

The driver said nothing. Not like he really needed to. They both knew Mycroft wasn’t really a patient man, despite him being a little on the lazy side.

Obviously the car wasn’t going anywhere. At least not with him in it.

“Fuckin’ twat. . “ Greg grumbled, getting out and heading up the few steps. God he just wanted to get home and take a pain pill that would knock his ass right back to dream land.

Even before reaching the door it was opened, the polite woman the same as before. There was an air of question in her gaze but Greg wasn’t really in the mind set for small talk.  
“Mr. Holmes will be back soon, sir. You may wait i-“

“Yes. I remember quite well where Mycroft always had me wait. Hasn’t been that long.” Greg said, walking past her as quickly as he could manage. It might have seen a little blunt, which it was, but he felt horrid.

Everything was just the same as it had been the last time. Nothing personal, nothing out of place. Just a basic flat that Mycroft was renting to keep his home address a complete and utter secret.

Even with his feet itching to keep pacing Greg found the quite familiar couch, sitting back with a low groan of pain before Josephine appeared with a little tray.

“Mr. Holmes said to get these ready for you. Just a basic pain pill, in case you asked.” She explained calmly, watching him eye the pill and water glass carefully.

It was stupid to accept anything when in this house. As he’d heard the first time Mycroft had drugged him. “I’ll be fine. I can’t really go around taking strange pills, can I?” Greg said, looking away to close his eyes and mentally force the pain away.

She lingered for another few moments, obviously worried. He looked like a cross between a mess and handsome with the fresh looking hair-cut. “If you’re sure, sir. Please call if you need anything.” She assured before setting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Greg pulled his phone out to check for any warning messages that Mycroft might have sent. Nope. All a complete surprise.

‘You need to come get me from Mycrofts!’

Even Sherlock would surely be okay sparing John for an errand like that. When there wasn’t a reply he gave a little curse, moving around in his seat slightly as he eyed the pain pill again.

“My my, Lestrade, you certainly have seen better days.”

Mycroft entered the room on barely a sound beyond the snarky comment that had Greg glaring as he tried to stand. Sitting back he tried not to groan in pain.

With Gregs attention on himself Mycroft openly frowned, worried etched on his face for a moment until the hazy eyes looked up to him.

Standing beside the coffee table he leaned over to push the tray closer, nodding. “Don’t be foolish, Greg. We both know you’re quite well at hiding pain but right now you can barely keep from crying out. It’ll at least take the edge off.”

Greg knew it was foolish and stupid to take a pill offered by Mycroft Holmes but his mind wasn’t exactly in the right spot as he reached out to grab it. Ignoring the water he swallowed it dry, wishing it to work fast as he leaned backwards.

“Why am I here, Mycroft? You were the one who. . well, I don’t really know if you can call it ‘ending’ since we didn’t really have anything.”

Such a sassy little mouth. On Sherlock or John it was rather irksome but with Greg he could only picture the things to gag that loveable mouth.

The hostile reaction was expected. Greg always was rather easy to read. “You’re so untrusting, Greg. Do you honestly think so little of me? You expect me to take advantage of a man who can barely walk.” Mycroft would have tried harder to sound offended if that was something he wouldn’t do.

As the flushed face grew more relaxed he took a step closer, almost watching the drug take quick effect. “Like you’re really such an innocent man. I’m not interested in your mind games, Mycroft.”

Lifting the tip of the umbrella in hand up Mycroft pressed it gently against the others chest, watching the dark eyes widen. Was he thinking about the last time this happened? Of course poor Greg merely thought it a dream brought on by a drug induced state.

Greg knew he could easily push the sharp point away and demand to leave. There was just something keeping him pinned in place. Licking his lips he tried to glare at Mycroft but all he could remember was the last hallucination. It had felt so real. Just like this.

Just. Like. This.

“Mycroft, you. . you bloody twat!” Greg hissed, face growing hot as it finally dawned on him. Mycroft really had been at the hospital and at his old flat! In all his years no one had ever managed to make him feel so bloody stupid. Not even his cheating wife had made him feel this foolish. The fact it was a game to Mycroft was still painful, only adding to the dulling discomfort.

When the tip of the umbrella touched his chin to turn his gaze back to Mycroft he couldn’t help but look. That unnamed force that had a hold on his very being. “I can’t do this, Mycroft. My body isn’t healed and you know that.”

Mycroft hated himself in that moment. It was a little embarrassing to feel something like that.

“Yet you’re growing ever more excited at the very idea of being here. Your body remembers quite well.” Mycroft said, running his gaze downward and soaking up the smallest of groans that slipped past Gregs lips.

The detectives fingers were flexing on the edge of the couch, squeezing as he physically fought the urge to roll his hips. How greatly the sight had been missed.

Kneeling down in front of the other Mycroft ignored the confused questions. They were all rather blurred together anyway as poor Lestrade seemed torn between questioning him and simply pulling away.

Taking the moment of confusion he leaned forward, hands pushing the covered thighs apart swiftly to give himself more room.

Things had been going as he planned. Things had ended completely and Greg was settling back into a good routine, even considering going out on some of those blind dates according to John. This was back tracking on everything.

Mycroft almost moaned as his lips connected to the hot groin, the heat almost searing his lips as Greg arched upward with a pained cry.

“Mycroft, don’t even think about it.”

“Then I shan’t think about it.” Mycroft replied calmly, pulling the zipper down. No boxers? Interesting. Quite interesting.

A quickly glance upward merely showed Greg trying to look away, a hand reaching up to try and muffle the pleasured noises threatening to come out. Truly an attempt at futility judging by how his hips were twitching. Even his cock was already rather hard.

“Sending me those videos and you didn’t expect some form of punishment? You know what you were doing.” Mycroft couldn’t resist scolding him, finding as if a dam had burst from everything he’d been trying to block out. He hadn’t nearly enjoyed his recent string of stress relief. Pleasurable experiences but none of them had been quite this tempting.

Mycroft licked the clear liquid already beading at the head of his lovers cock, taking in the first few inches with little worry. Even after jerking off so heavily last night poor Greg seemed ready to burst so soon.

It certainly would be rude to leave him struggling.

Closing his eyes Mycroft ran his tongue along the underside, almost humming to send stimulating vibrations through the entire length until he focused on the head. Slowly his tongue circled around the sensitive slit, giving just enough pressure to bring out another moan from the man pinned to the couch.

Again he could have easily pushed Mycroft away and demanded to go home. Hopefully saving at least a shred of dignity but when his hands went to the head between his legs it was only to hold it in place, head falling back against the couch.

Even with his side still hurting Greg found it wasn’t distracting enough to ruin this. As that talented mouth took him in to the hilt it felt like he hadn’t had a proper get off in forever. Even those times he’d had to take care of it himself didn’t seem to count for anything.

“Mycroft! You bloody twat!” Greg couldn’t help but cry out as he came, body tensing painfully until he simply seemed to black out. When he’d sagged against the couch Mycroft pulled away, licking his lips were a few drops had managed to leak out.

Certainly out of character for him. Greg did bring out the worst in him. That much had already been proven.

With an almost graceful air, as if he hadn’t just been between his male lovers legs, Mycroft stood and brushed out the wrinkles in the front of his suit jacket. Never did his eyes leave the limp figure spread out before him. Still flushed and a tad bit sweaty.

After adjusting the front of Gregs pants he went to the bar to pour a rare drink for himself. This certainly hadn’t been how Mycroft Holmes had been expecting to spend his afternoon.

Last night he’d received a rather sandal worthy text from Mr. Lestrade. Unable to ignore it he’d looked at the pictures over and over until his blood was boiling, the desire to go claim the detective in the middle of the night nearly making it impossible for him to sleep.

Mycroft took a small sip of the whiskey, sighing at the burning sensation. Another weak move on his part but how much worse could it be with having already brought Greg Lestrade here?

Turning attention back to the couch he almost smirked at the first snore.

“Honestly, Greg, whatever shall I do with you?”


	8. Innocent Shower.

It hadn’t been real. Couldn’t have really happened. No. He’d stumbled back home, taken the pain pills and had one hell of a dream.

Passed out on the couch too judging by the feel against his cheek. Greg kept his eyes closed for another few minutes, almost rubbing his face against the familiar texture. This was a couch he knew but it certainly wasn’t the slightly shaggy material of the one in his flat.

So, it had been real. It had happened, and he’d never gotten home.

Greg remembered everything that had happened. Even the other times that he’d only thought the drugs playing tricks on his mind. As his eyes opened he almost laughed but it wouldn’t have necessarily been a happy one.

Finding yourself passed out on your ex-lovers couch wasn’t exactly a joyous moments. Even if you had sent pictures of self-masturbation just the other night. At least this most likely meant Mycroft had seen them. Even felt something about them. Considering. . 

Heat filled his face as he sat up, causing the blanket to fall off. “Mycroft?” He called out, wincing at how dry his throat felt.

He was trying to clear out the discomfort when a perfectly dressed maid appeared, offering a glass of water and a small pill.

Right away warning bells went off at the sight of the pill. Shaking his head Greg only took the water, drinking down half of it quickly. “Mr. Holmes said the pill might help, sir.” Josephine explained but he sat up, shaking his head. “Ya. It was stupid enough to take the one from last night. Not going to make that mistake again.” Greg said in a slightly scratchy voice. “Just. . get me a car. I need to get back home.”

Standing up so quickly had his head spinning, forcing him to sat back on the couch again.

“Is there anything I can get you, sir?” Josephine asked, kneeling down to make sure he wasn’t too pale. Master Holmes had made it clear not to get too close. The reason why hadn’t been said flat out but she wasn’t a stupid woman. Not that Josephine thought Greg held a serious attraction towards her anymore.

His eyes barely lingered on her as he looked over his shoulder at the doorway. Not to mention his question about where Mycroft was.

“Mr. Holmes has already left for the day, sir. He gave me orders to let you sleep.” She explained, setting the little pill down and standing. “As for a car, sir. . Mr. Holmes wanted you to stay here and rest for the day.” Josephine added slowly, smiling calmly.

Greg shook his head, setting the glass down and standing. “No no no. I can’t just sit around here. You can tell Mycroft thanks but no thanks, which I’m sure will be unneeded because he’ll know I’m leaving the moment I step out of this house.” Greg said, glancing down quickly to make sure his pants were still closed. No telling what state Mycroft might have left him in.

This just felt like too much. Even if he had been missing Mycroft and had sent those pictures he hadn’t thought these past few times of ‘dreaming’ up Mycroft had really been. . Mycroft.

Rushing past the verbally stumbling Josephine he headed outside, knowing he must have looked a fright with silver stubble at his cheeks and the wrinkled clothes. At least his hair cut was still fresh, to a degree. He just needed to get home into the shower.

 

Arching his head back into the warm spray he thought about last night. What exactly did that mean? Did Mycroft just expect things to go back to their strange relationship? Even Mycroft couldn’t expect that. He’d always made it clear he always knew what Greg was thinking or what he would do. Things just couldn’t fall back into place in his head so Mycroft would know better.

That didn’t mean last night hadn’t felt rather wonderful. Sometimes a hand just couldn’t cut it and Mycroft had such a wonderful mouth.

Another thought lingered in the back of his mind. Better left unsaid and unthought if he could help it. It had been quite a bit of time since Mycroft had fucked him. The other day had been. . amazing. He just secretly wished that Mycroft would have been able to. . 

It would just be a welcome change to get to return to work. The best type of distraction honestly.

 

Leaning over the body Greg gave it a proper stare, wincing at the bloody dent in the head. Certainly not a fun way to go.

Standing straights he nodded to the men who’d come to take the body away. The pair were quite regular workers for his scenes, even they managed to take a moment and say they were glad he was back working.

Not that it actually felt like work today. As soon as he’d entered the office there had been cake. At 8 in the bloody morning they had made him force down a piece of rather decent cake before letting him get back to work.

After that it was a cross between people treating him like they normally did and also trying to be ‘careful’ so he didn’t strain himself. It was almost a pain in the arse really but a clear sign of how everyone in the office felt about him. Not exactly the distraction he wanted at first but the crime scene helped.

Kind of horrible to say considering it meant someone was dead.

“No reason to call Sherlock, Sally. So no reason to death glare me.” Greg murmured, pulling his phone out to check for messages.

Nothing. Again.

“Sure you’re feeling alright, sir? You keep looking a little pale.” Sally said, walking with him towards the car. “I’m completely fine. Just need to get back into the motions but I’m fine, Sally.” Greg tried to reassure her.

Another two weeks from that ‘incident’ and he felt almost completely back to himself. A few little aches but that was honestly just from all the bed rest. He was used to pushing himself so stopping suddenly hadn’t really been the best on his body.

With that thought in mind Greg kept going the entire day with barely a moments rest. By the end of it he was ready to fall over and sleep for another month.

Greg was stepping out of the office when his phone started buzzing. Even before his fingers had a chance to wrap around it he saw the sleek black car waiting.

“Lestrade.” He answered, voice more breathy than he would have liked.

“I see you already saw the car. You know what to do, Greg. We both know you haven’t forgotten that much.”

As the line went dead in his ear Greg took a few steps towards the car, sighing weakly before getting inside. 

What game was Mycroft playing now? It was stupid but Greg just had to see exactly what Mycroft was thinking with this whole situation.

Like a day hadn’t passed between the last time and now Lestrade was let into the house with words saying he was allowed to have a drink, or whatever he wanted while waiting. Truth be told it sounded like a God send as he went to the bar for a quick drink, confusion making his head swimmy. Well, it was either confusion or his pain meds mixing with the drink.

Taking a large sip of the burning liquid he nearly jumped out of his skin when firm hands placed themselves at his waist.

“Mycroft, don’t do that!” Greg scolded, glaring over his shoulder to find the almost teasing eyes on him. The hands were firm and steady, not shying away from tugging his tucked in shirt out so they could get to the warm flesh beneath. It didn’t help that with how he was leaning on the bar it was even easier for Mycroft to pin him.

What was he doing? The question could have been asked to either of them but Greg was finding it rather hard to think.

It couldn’t be the drink. The one in hand was only the second one.

“Did you drug me again, Holmes?” Greg growled but he already knew the answer. The arrogant laugh only had his cheeks come to life with color as something hard and hot pressed into his lower body, the hands resting on his just as warm skin. “You know the answer to that yourself. I don’t need to drug you for this reaction.” Mycroft said calmly, giving his hips a little arch.

The strangled cry was embarrassing enough but the throbbing erection pressing into the front of his pants was just another painful reminder of how weak he was.

“Mycroft, I don’t want to be here. .” Greg murmured but he didn’t sound very honest. Not even to himself.

Another grinding motion had him moaning loudly, head bowing as the others laughter seemed to echo in the room. 

“I hate being lied to, Greg.”

“What does it matter? You know the moment someone is lying. Everyone could spend their entire lives lying to you and you’d know each and every time!”

The frustrated tone had Mycroft easing back on the teasing some. Certainly wouldn’t do to have Greg simply force his way out.

“Hardly the point, Inspector. Call it a character weakness but being lied to puts me off. Especially one of those pointless lies where the truth would truly be the better option.” Mycroft said, leaning over the others back and placing a kiss on his covered shoulder.

“I accepted a date offer.” Greg said quickly, eyes closing tightly as he felt Mycroft tense behind him. “Really now?” Mycroft finally said, the fingers of one hand reaching up to brush over the still fresh haircut.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. The woman had been pushed on him for weeks before this whole accident. A woman about his age who had gone through a divorce herself, no kids. Just nervous about getting back in the dating game. A perfect chance to get back on the dating wagon with someone who understood.

It was honestly the best idea he’d had in a good while. That didn’t make what Mycroft was doing any less pleasurable.

The hard grinding of their lower bodies had grown softer but it left a more lasting impression. “Mycroft, I should g-Ah! Fucking twat!” Greg gasped, feeling a sharp bite to his throat that had his breath hitching painfully.

The fingers in his hair tightened with what little they could grab, the other hand now between his legs. The wet spot was impossible to ignore Greg feared. Which was proven true when he felt Mycroft press a finger-tip against the wet spot, rubbing in little circular motions as his teeth found what he remembered to be a sensitive weak spot in Gregs earlobe.  
Grabbing at the edge of the bar Greg could barely keep his mind steady as he tried to say he shouldn’t be here. He needed to go. He had a bloody date tomorrow night! He didn’t need to be there!

“I never punished you for those naughty pictures, Greg. Did you really think I would let that slip by?” Mycroft chuckled, pulling away so suddenly Greg tightened his hold on the bar to keep from falling over.

That little thrill was building up in his lower body at the idea of Mycroft ‘punishing’ him. There were so many things crossing his mind as he listened to Mycroft walk around the room, his eyes closed and head lowered.

“Pants, Greg.”

“I really don’t need to be here, Mycroft.” Greg murmured, standing straight only so he could undo the zipper and push the dark pants down.

The soft leather of the crop brushing against his cheeks had Greg nearly moaning, head arching back until there was a heartbeat where the leather was drawn back.

The first hard ‘snap’ of it connecting with his ass had him panting, cock giving a small jerk as he arched his hips back.

“Such a naughty detective you are. Sending such lewd pictures without even being asked. Did you send them to anyone else?”

Such a damned ludicrous question!

A harsh ‘smack’ against the already stinging cheeks had him trying to answer quickly. “No! You were the only one!” Greg groaned, sweat already beading at his forehead as he fought back the urge to reach down and start jerking himself.

“Truly? I find that rather odd.” Mycroft chuckled, running the tip of the crop slowly along one of the welts already forming.

“You were the only fucking one, Mycroft!”

The force of the tone had his hand stilling for only a moment before he brought the crop back, normally passive eyes almost lighting up with excitement at how Greg arched back while crying out.

The only one? It was true. Mycroft knew those pictures had only been meant for his eyes. Which was more pleasing than he dared admit.

Caring was not an advantage.

Repeating the phrase over and over in his head Mycroft kept the motion of his arm going until his elbow nearly ached. Not to mention Gregs ass was nearly bright red, his body nearly trembling.

Dropping the crop to the floor he moved closer, grabbing handfuls of the warm flesh and squeezing until Greg let out an unmistakable whimper even as he pressed back. They were both over-due for the pleasures they brought each other. No matter what punishments he dreamed up there was only one thing on either of their minds.

Greg turned his head as he felt Mycroft lean closer. The first kiss as his mind spinning, every thought leaking from his ears until he finally came back enough to notice he’d been turned around and was grinding against Holmes like a bitch in heat.

Nimble fingers were at his throat, feeling the racing pulse before increasing just enough. How horrible was it to be so aroused by someone choking him? Greg certainly didn’t want to think about it right now as he pressed closer to Mycroft, giving a muffled moan as the lips pressed against his own again.

In a bold move he sucked at Mycrofts tongue teasingly, not stopping even as the other gave an actual moan. What did stop him was the increased pressure at his throat, shoving him back hard into the bar hard enough to have some of the bottles shaking.

“Turn back around, Greg.” Mycroft said, squeezing the soft throat gently before pulling away.

The bedroom was only a few feet down the hall but Greg just turned, leaning over the bar as he listened to Mycrofts movements. What else had the bastard brought in here with him?

Greg started to glance over his shoulder when two lubed fingers pressed at his not recently fucked entrance.

Mycroft was quite pleased to feel how tight Greg had become over their time of being apart. Not exactly virgin tight but tight enough to make it clear there had been no men. No women either judging by the surveillance.

His other hand came up to give a gentle slap to the others hip, a silent order for Greg to spread his legs further.

No matter how eager they both were some amount of teasing was needed. It was only when Lestrade started arching back faster that he added a third finger. A little bit of a tight squeeze but only a single groan gave it away on Gregs end.

Mycroft felt the tight strain of his pants, causing his hips to arch ever so slightly as he watched the way Greg arched back. So embarrassed but eager. 

Greg was finally settling in with the fingers when everything pulled out of him, causing him to curse and glare back at Mycroft until a swift slap to the still sensitive cheeks had him looking back around. From here he could hear the sound of a zipper. Images flashed through his mind, causing the head of his arousal to leak further.

“Please, Mycroft.. . “ Greg finally moaned, biting the inside of his cheek as careful hands grasped his hips and something much larger than fingers started pushing inside him.

So bloody tight!

They were both thinking it. Greg pushed back, trying to relax his body as Mycroft went deeper. Even the toys he’d tried using hadn’t felt so good but they also hadn’t been nearly as big as the person he’d dared think about right before reaching climax.

Buried to the hilt Mycroft lingered for a moment, silently admitting how much he loved the slight tremble of Gregs hips under his hands and the gentle squeeze of the hot body pulling him deeper.

There was no room for gentle love making. Even though it hurt like a son of a bitch Greg could only beg for more, arching back with each punishing thrust that sent wave after wave of pleasure through him.

“H-harder.” He uttered once, cheeks flaming bright red before Mycroft adjusting position and did just as requested.

Even without being touched Greg could feel himself reaching the brink. His cock was throbbing in tune to their movements. With a harsh cry he thrust backward hard, trying to keep Mycroft buried inside as he came on the perfectly polished floor and front side of the bar.

The sudden tightness glued him in place but it was just perfect. Giving an unforgiving arch of his hips he filled the body he’d been missing for far too many weeks. Claiming it again as his own as he leaned forward at the same time Greg turned his head.

Their kiss was just as rough and fast as their sex had been. No doubt leaving little marks on their lips but it didn’t seem to bother either of them for the time being.

As the warmth of the moment started to settle Greg tried to ignore the mocking voice in the back of his head. Only made worse as Mycroft pulled away, leaving what was left of himself behind to drip down his thighs.

“Such a mess.” Mycroft sighed, only his breathy voice giving away how affected he still was by the whole ordeal.

Greg felt a little stiff as he stood straight, blushing crimson as he debated about simply pulling his pants up and leaving. How could he do this now?

“Mycroft, I should. . I should go. . “ He tried to say, looking over at the man.

“Not even a shower? I remember how greatly you hate leaving here in such a state.” Mycroft almost chuckled, eyes flashing with something unknown as he watched the mental struggle on Gregs barely giving away face.

“A shower and I need to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter. Thank you again to everyone who reads this. I hope you enjoyed every chapter and every word. Also, if it's not too selfish to say, comments are loved. So very loved.


	9. Make it worth my while.

The shower felt roomier than he remembered. Almost a little too big. At least when standing there alone. Mycroft was still in the bedroom, the bathroom door shut between them. No doubt trying to prove a point.

Greg felt frustrated and more than a little pissed off. Mainly at himself. At any point he could have done something to stop Mycroft but all he’d managed to do was beg for more.   
Sending those pictures had been the first mistake but standing there washing himself clean like so many other times before Greg didn’t feel any actual guilt. There was no awkward tugging of his heart, and nothing that made him feel this was wrong. He felt angry for being so weak but that was about it. Sighing softly he tried to remember the date coming up.

This ‘thing’ with Mycroft was nothing. It was never anything to start with! It had been a nice stress relief after the divorce but it was just another hassle waiting for happen. Having Mycroft completely humiliate him the last time had been more than enough to prove that.

Stealing a glance at the door Greg had to wonder where Mycroft was. Normally the elder Holmes would have joined him by now.

No. No. No. Thoughts like that were bad.

Turning the water off quickly he got out, grabbing the towel and drying off as quick as possible. A quick shower and he was leaving. Just like that. Out of habit he’d dropped everything in the bedroom but maybe Mycroft was gone. It would explain why he hadn’t joined him in the shower.

Not that it mattered. After all, he hadn’t wanted Mycroft to join him in the shower.

Mustering up the shattered bits of pride he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Only to find Mycroft wearing nothing more than an unbuttoned dress shirt passed out on the bed. Panic flared for maybe a minute before he saw the calm rise and fall of the others chest.

“Holmes?” Greg called the name softly, taking a few steps forward and freezing when Mycroft made a noise. Instead of waking up he just moved further down on the bed, grumbling in his sleep. The annoying expression was just far too perfect.

As many times as they’d slept together Greg couldn’t recall seeing Mycroft actually sleeping. He’d felt the dip in the mattress from another body, and even the body heat but he’d never looked over. 

Closing the distance between him and the bed Greg almost smirked at the sight of Mycrofts face drawn up in annoyance. No doubt overthinking his dreams or being annoyed with Sherlock.

“Mycroft. Mycroft?” He reached out to shake the mans shoulder gently. Unnoticing he was slowly leaning over, only taking note when he was barely a breath away from the others face.

Maybe it was in his head but the steady beat of Mycrofts heart was damned near overwhelming. “Mycroft. . “ Greg said his name again but it was more pleading, his hands now pushing the shirt aside further.

At what point Mycroft actually woke he wasn’t sure but when he dared lean in for a small peck on the lips there was a full response.

The towel fell to the floor as both his hands reached up to grab at Mycrofts shirt, pushing it open as Mycroft pulled him down on the bed.

No mocking words about him merely taking a quick shower. They were both too distracted with each other to be snarky. Despite having only finished fucking around on the sitting room bar their hands roamed each other’s forms with little pause.

Before he knew it Greg broke the kiss only to find himself on the bed, half way under Mycroft. His fingers were tight in the mans shirt, holding him close.

So, what would be said? No doubt something rude and mocking. How horrible was it that he wanted to stay despite that? No matter what Mycroft said he had no intention of leaving this bed until every single desire that had been built up was worked away.

“I missed you.”

Crushing lips stole the question, as well as did the confusion. Had he been the one to say it? Had to be.

Mycroft would never feel something like that, let alone say it!

Moaning upward into the kiss Greg struggled to push Mycrofts shirt off, trying to feel every inch of him until a traveling had reached between his legs.

“Bloody twat!” Greg cursed, arching his hips up as overly talented lips made their way to his throat as the fingers wrapped wonderfully tight around his aching length.

The silence was broken only by their panted breaths and the sound of skin on skin, but it was almost too quiet. Arching his head to the side he gave a low moan, thighs parting further as Mycroft teased at the dripping head. The extra lubrication had his movements going faster, bringing the pleasure on until Greg grabbed at his wrist.

Mycroft pulled up, bracing himself with a hand beside Gregs head. The sharp eyes were looking almost anywhere but at him. And the adorably flushed face was even more so.

With a low chuckle Mycroft pulled his wrist from the others grip, licking away what little bit of Greg lingered on his fingers. What Greg wanted was clear but the temptation to tease was strong.

“Did you think of me often when you were pleasuring yourself? Lying by claiming you never pleasured yourself would be foolish. Your sexual desires are quite strong for an older gentleman such as yourself. In your prime years you must have been simply insatiable.”

The teasing tone eased a knot that had been building up, almost making Greg laugh but he was too distracted by the lips back over his.

Mycrofts grip tightened at his lovers hips when he felt the shiver run through him. As their lips parted he knew Greg had tasted himself. The detective really was such a perverse man. It was simply perfect.

“Get on your back.” Greg murmured against his lips. A little unexpected but certainly interesting.

Feeling a little charitable he went to do as suggested, watching the butterflies practically fly across Lestrades face. Interesting. Very much so.

Greg wasn’t sure exactly what he planned as he sat up, rather distracted by the body spread out next to him. Even with the little extra gut in the middle his heart gave hard jerks that hadn’t been felt since. . quite a while actually.

“I really should go now.” Greg commented as he got up from the bed, looking around the room before heading straight for the little dresser Mycroft had never let him near. Glancing back at the bed he found Mycroft eyeing him carefully, reading each of his movements. “Just going to ignore what I said?”

“If there were an actual threat of you leaving I would say something. You wish to leave as much as I wish you to leave.” Mycroft replied calmly, reaching down to start stroking himself. “Second drawer to the left.”

Again the embarrassment sunk in as he opened the drawer to find a rather amazing set of lubricates. Flavored, scented and so forth. Almost laughable if he weren’t so damned turned out at the idea of them using each and every one.

Not so much in the mood to risk ruining this with being adventurous Greg grabbed the mostly familiar purple lidded bottle before returning to the bed.

Watching the clear liquid drip down Mycrofts hard cock had his hips gyrating forward slightly; breathe hitching in his throat for a moment or two as the long fingers took up their stroking again. He didn’t notice the way the Holmes brother was watching him in a less than tracking way.

Of course he noted how Gregs pupils dilated considerably whenever he watched him tease at the aching head. His pink little tongue would dart out, having to lick lips dry with the onslaught of desire. The fingers of his dominate hand twitched, wanting to take over no doubt.

An open book that he wanted to read over and over again.

“Do come now, Greg. I’m growing rather bored.” Mycroft dared to tease, watching the spell shatter and the cheeks turn crimson. Instead of pouting the bold eyes turned to him, a hand reaching out to replace his.

The first few strokes honestly had his brain wanting to shut down. Greg had such a silly effect on him! “Bored? Seems quite the opposite really. Why don’t you tell me what you want this time, Holmes.” Greg almost purred it!

The sheer shock of such control being held over him had Mycroft moaning softly, hips almost arching up before he gave a smirk.

There was no fight on Gregs part when he reached up to wrap his fingers around the strong throat. The shuttering sigh that escaped barely parted lips was just a bonus. “Truly, dear Lestrade? I want your wonderfully tight body bouncing on my cock until you’re so sore you won’t even dream of leaving my bed.”

With how fast the blood left his brain it had to be a record. He actually felt light headed after Mycroft said something so completely crude, vulgar, and arousing.  
Seeing the desired effect Mycroft held Greg gently by the throat, pulling him downward for a firm kiss as he leaned up on his other elbow.

As the kiss intensified Greg found his hand moving faster, his brain nearly shutting off. It was almost sudden when Holmes broke away from him, squeezing his throat gently to cut the air off for less than a heartbeat. “So, shall you get started then, detective?”

Greg could barely hide the embarrassment as he moved in place, reaching behind himself to hold Mycroft steady before slowly lowering himself downward.

Even after the little bar incident it wasn’t as simple as impaling himself on Mycrofts groin. “I can’t. . focus when you’re doing that. . “ Greg moaned, feeling the others grip tighten at his throat. When it loosened he went down further, eyes closing slowly until he was finally seated fully.

It still ached a bit but neither wanted to wait it seemed. Bracing his hands on Mycrofts chest he started to lift up, moaning against the grip at his throat whenever his lover arched up to meet his eager body.

Again Mycroft didn’t mock him with how obvious it was about him enjoying this. Which was a blessing really. A little strange but Greg didn’t have time to focus much as he moved faster, nails digging into the others chest.

“Mycroft! You bastard!” Greg moaned it before his air was cut off again, leaving him tingling and throwing him over the edge of orgasm.

The shower was obviously a waste considering the hot feeling that filled him, leaving Greg panting before he sagged forward. “Bastard. . “ He groaned softly, pushing the hand away so he could get down for another kiss.

The sticky mess rubbed at his chest when Mycroft pulled him down tightly, fingers gripping at him almost painfully. “I should shower, and you should go do. . whatever it was you were off to do.” Greg said after clearing his throat, cheeks turning red as he went to get up. It was a little uncomfortable but oddly satisfying. Just a quick shower and he’d get out of there for the night. No. He’d get out of there for good! Not just the bloody night!

Instead of enjoying the shower alone Mycroft was almost quick on his heels.

“I’m really leaving after this, Mycroft. I can’t miss any more work right now.” Greg said firmly, feeling a gentle hand at his waist. “I’m quite aware of that. Is having my body even close too much of a temptation for you?” Mycroft chuckled, wrapping his arm around Lestrades waist to pull him close as the water started up.

It would have been easier to convince himself to leave if Mycroft wasn’t being so. . different. Not in a bad way. Instead Holmes was acting almost affectionate. There had been moments in the past but this was more obvious.

Little touches, affection driven kisses. They were both a little revved up by the end of the shower but Greg was fast in getting out, starting to dry off before Mycroft had even finished turning the water off. Instead of looking disappointed or annoyed he looked amused, which had Greg feeling nervous. Rarely a good thing when a Holmes brother looked amused.

Wrapping the new towel around his waist he held another one to Mycroft, frowning. “I should. . go now. Is the car taking me back?”

“Of course. It’ll be waiting in a few moments.” Mycroft said with a little nod.

 

For the first time in weeks the bed felt empty. Too big for just his body. While trying to sleep he’d roll over, reaching for a body that wasn’t there. Then he’d prop up and look around, confused until the dull ache in his lower body reminded him quite well why he felt like this.

After about the fifth time waking up Greg laid there mentally killing himself as he thought about the offer to stay at Mycrofts for the night. It had been an honest request. Not a fake suggestion that ended with Mycroft ‘making’ him stay over for the night.

What really killed him had been the almost submissive way Mycroft had handled the news of him still intending the date the next night. There had been merely a flash of something in his eyes before they took on the ‘normal’ bored look, as well as that careless smirk that left everyone feeling lowly.

“Fucking twat.” Greg groaned softly, rolling over and punching the pillow before trying to sleep again. He needed to be at least a little excited about the next night. It certainly wasn’t the poor womans fault he was so. . stupid when it came to another man.

 

When the morning alarm went off Mycroft reached out with a simple flick of the wrist, having not even been asleep to start with. This fake ‘home’ was where he’d decided to spend the night. After seeing Greg off he’d simply taken a seat in his office and. . done nothing.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. He had sat there and questioned many things. The same things young Sherlock had at one point in his life. Was there something wrong with them? A question that had far too many answers. Very few of which could be considered positive.

Caring was not an advantage. He stood by that even now but he was falling behind on it. It was why he had sent Greg away, and why there had been days where he’d simply lingered in the hospital room until leaving so John or Sherlock wouldn’t find him there.

When Josephine brought him morning coffee and the paper Mycroft was hardly in decent spirits. Mainly because tonight Greg was going to venture out on some little date.  
Pointless to care. A complete waste of time.

Despite all of that being true he had the silliest urge to call Greg and demand he come over here the moment work ended. Of course, he knew that wouldn’t happen. Out of sheer pride Greg Lestrade would go out tonight. He would be a perfect gentleman because that was what Greg Lestrade was.

There would be silly smiles exchanged, stories meant to bond them together as the date progressed. No doubt the woman would find Greg interesting, more so than anyone else she had been on a date with recently. That’s what she would tell him as her lips curled into a smile, eyes showing the full meaning of her words.

Out of pride Greg Lestrade would return the smile, eyes never leaving hers as he held up a hand for the check. The check he would take care of because that was what a perfect gentleman did.

Mycroft opened his eyes, breathing in the bitter scent of his coffee as the images faded. It hadn’t happened but it would. There was no logical reason to be upset over something like that.

The co-worker responsible for the set up rushed Greg almost the minute he stepped into the office. The older woman was so excited he couldn’t help but be amused, which at least helped him feel a bit better about the whole situation.

After re-explaining the plans he was finally left alone to tend to his actual job. Another blessed distraction. Mostly paper work, of bloody course.

A few in the office did notice how he kept the door wide open. A rare thing actually. He’d always complained how the noise kept him from being able to think while doing paper work but Greg would have welcomed distractions today.

The phone was sitting on the desk just. . being there. Nothing. No texts telling him to be at the flat as soon as work got off. Nothing.

A blessing really. Maybe this could finally be put to rest. The other day had just been them getting it out of their systems.

Dropping the pen he let out a groan, rubbing at his face. This was a good thing! A good thing. He just needed to remember that and everything would be bloody perfect.  
Easier said than done he discovered at the end of the day.

The intended date for the night had been the only one to text. A simple phrase of how excited she was and a winking smiley face.

It was a little endearing. Judging by what he’d heard about her it was fitting. His age, divorced but still young at heart.

Taking another shower Greg ignored the small aches in his lower back, trying to wash off the memory of less that feminine hands running over him and being far more comforting than the hot water.

Looking at himself in the mirror about twenty minutes later Greg had to admit he wasn’t that bad looking. A little gray. Okay, a lot more than a ‘little’ gray but he was handsome. Grabbing his wallet and cell phone he tried to remind himself to be a perfect gentleman. This woman deserved his full attention for the course of the date.

 

She was beautiful. Standing quickly from the table to get the chair Greg felt his heart start to race. A perfect height to reach just at his shoulder Clair Doyle was a simply stunning woman for any age. Wavy dark hair framing a pale face that didn’t seem to have a single wrinkle.

As their hands met for a quick shake they both smiled, a fact that weighed oddly heavy on his heart.

Wine was poured and they started up the usual chatting of two older divorced people trying out the dating pool again. They exchanged funny stories that had them both laughing. Their food was perfect and the wine kept coming until Greg felt slightly fuzzy in the head.

A gentle hand reached across the table, touching his hand. “Honestly, this blind date sounded like a bad idea at first. It’s not you or anything but it’s. . just been hard, you know?” She chuckled, cheeks flaming to life when he placed a hand over her own and squeezed.

“I completely understand. It’s been a confusing time for me and, honestly, I haven’t really dated since the divorce.” Greg replied, running his thumb over her hand.

It was small within his own, almost delicate. Looking up to meet her eyes he could easily tell what she meant as her lips curled into a small smile. “I’m glad I came out tonight. This has got to be one of the best dates I’ve ever been on. You’re an amazing man, Greg.”

Things were a blur after that. The check came, went, and they were gone.

Walking down the dark street Greg felt the heavy weight of the phone in his pocket. It was almost counter balanced by the arm looped through his. Almost.

They conversations ran from work to personal, and almost to anything else. It was a perfect date.

“I would suggest getting a cab and popping over to my place for a nightcap but. . “

Her trailing sentence had him frowning, stopping to give her full attention. “It’s completely fine. I wasn’t expecting a nightcap of any sort tonight. It’s our first date.”

“No no, Greg, it’s nothing like that. It’s just. . who is she?” Clair asked with a smirk, looking up at him. Maybe it was the wine but Greg stared dumbly at her for a moment before she laughed softly, turning to face him. “I stand by what I said. You have got to be one of the most perfect dates I’ve ever been on. You’re sweet, kind, great sense of humor and you’re plenty handsome but there’s someone else.”

The flush on his cheeks was answer enough.

Before he could start stumbling over an apology Clair pressed a finger against his lips. “It’s fine. This is our first, and only, date. I know you feel something too but you’re thinking of someone else. Which begs the question of why you came out in the first place.”

Greg almost laughed as he turned to face her. A perfect chance to move on with his life and start over. She was charming, smart and beautiful. “I’m sorry, Clair. I didn’t think this had happened.”

Clair gave a small sigh before standing on her tip toes, kissing him on the cheek. “I have work in the morning anyway. I won’t blab anything about tonight and we can just say we just didn’t feel anything, okay?” She offered.

“You’re amazing.” Greg said, kissing her cheek and pulling her in for a tight hug.

After making sure she got into a cab alright he hailed another one, heart pounding as he stumbled over the address. Damn wine made it hard to think!  
No answer on the bloody phone! No reply back to his hurried texts! If Mycroft had gone out that night. . bloody twat.

 

“Mr. Lestrade! Mr. Lestrade! Mr. Holmes wasn’t expecting you!” Josephine gasped as he barged in the door past her. “Sorry, Josephine. Kinda urgent business.” He said, pausing after a few steps. “He’s not busy with anyone, is he?”

“What? Of course not, sir. He’s just doing work right now. Would you care to wait in the sitting room while I tell him you’re here?” She suggested, shutting the door softly. It was clear the suggestion was more a pleading. Well, he didn’t want to get her in trouble somehow with Mycroft. “Fine. Just tell Mycroft I’m waiting then.” He sighed.

Instead of fixing a drink Greg paced around for a few moments, growing more and more restless until the faint sound of footsteps caught his attention.

“Greg, I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Did your date not go well?” Mycrofts voice was calm, silkier than Greg remembered. This was more his professional voice that hid every emotion except polite boredom. “Actually, it went rather well. Clair is an amazing woman that felt as strongly for me as I did for her.” He started, turning around to look at Holmes.

The stormy eyes flashed to his cheek, growing wide before taking on the blank politeness that matched the silky tone. “I hadn’t thought you possessed a streak like this, Greg. Quite unbecoming.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“What?” He grumbled, reaching up and rubbing at the spot. Pulling his hand away Greg cursed to find the faint stain of red, most likely from the kiss to his cheek. No doubt an accident they hadn’t noticed in the dark.

Growing increasingly frustrated Greg stepped forward a few paces, shaking his head. “And yet I’m here, Mycroft. I could be out there with a woman that wanted me and yet. . I’m here. You’re not a stupid man and I won’t have you treat me like a simpleton. What does that tell you?”

“I fully expected you to finish this lovely outing. You’re one of the few people who can surprise me.” Mycroft mumbled, looking away as he reached up to cover his mouth with a yawn. Now Lestrade easily saw how tired Holmes looked. “You didn’t sleep much either last night, did you?” He murmured.

‘Either’? Mycroft looked back at the others face to catch any hint of mockery or a lie. Nothing.

“Why are you here, Greg?”

“Don’t play stupid, Holmes. You bloody well know why I’m here! You will not treat me like some other fool that crosses your path!” Greg snapped, closing the gap to grab the front of Mycrofts perfectly ironed and yank him forward.

There was no protest at the kiss. No awkward movement to try and break it. The far from feminine hands were gripping at the back of his shirt; pulling him closer as their lips parted and the kiss grew further heated.

Finally catching a breather Greg closed his eyes for a moment, lips turning into a smile.

“I missed you.”

Definitely not him saying it this time.

“Now, don’t look at me like that, Greg. You know fully well I’m not making it up.” Mycroft said, cheeks taking on the faintest pink color as Gregs smile grew wider. Wrapping his arms around the other he let out a small laugh, eyes growing hot for a moment before he blinked it away.

It made sense now. Why Mycroft had said what he had but that didn’t make it okay.

“You aren’t allowed to pull that damned trick again.” Greg murmured, kissing his lovers neck gently and shivering as the arms pulled him closer.

Instead of playing stupid Mycroft just nodded, closing his eyes tightly.

Pulling away Greg glared at him. “I’m not kidding, Mycroft. Don’t even think about trying to break things off because you’re having some confusion that we can just fucking talk about.”

“Yet you know it will never be quite that easy.” Mycroft sighed, kissing Lestrade softly as one of his hands trailed further downward.

“It’s never easy with you Holmes brothers. Better make it worth my while.” He countered, arching his hips forward.

They both shivered at the grinding of their lower bodies, their gazes both growing hotter and more tender.

“I really should punish you for showing up so late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. Thank you. Thank you to those that have read this. I hope you know I truly adore each and every one of you. I hope you enjoyed every chapter.
> 
> I most likely will do one shots in the future with them. This pairing has to be one of my favorites I've written for.
> 
> Please, leave a comment because I would love to hear what you had to say. If you wish to do it anon-style here's a link to my Tumblr if that makes you more comfortable. http://chicka-chicka-meowmeow.tumblr.com/
> 
> Again. Thank you so much. I know this sounds cheesy but I really really hope ya'll have enjoyed reading this at least a little bit.


End file.
